Once Upon A Time In the Old West
by lily moonlight
Summary: Sheriff Taylor, Miss Stella & the citizens of Hattanville return! Another NY story in the Old West with Mac/Stella, DL, Flack/Angell, Hawkes, Sid & Adam. Drama, humour & romance! Chapter 32: A Deputy's duty...
1. A Few Dollars More

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Notes**** A new adventure! Another story set in the Old West, the sequel to 'Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?', so plenty of fun and excitement, possibly peril too XD I hope you enjoy it.**

**Thanks to: _autumngold_ and _fatkat_ for reviewing the last chapter of 'Lost Letters', sorry I couldn't sent a proper reply; to everyone I've discussed ideas with; to _iluvCSI4ever_ for lending me Kelly Higgins (her character from 'The One With...') and, along with _Blue Shadowdancer _for reading, listening to my ramblings, and advising. This chapter is dedicated to _chrysalis escapist_, thanks for reading the first paragraphs!**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 1: A Few Dollars More

Mac:

Never did find out why Hammerback had a store of dynamite in his back yard, and maybe I never will. Maybe some secrets are best kept buried. But it's a secret that's sure proving difficult to unearth. I've attempted to question Stella about it on several occasions, having a sneaking suspicion she knows more than she's saying, but somethin' always seems to prevent me getting an answer from her.

At the last point of asking, when Don and I were in the saloon Friday night, she found herself having to attend urgently to a customer at the other end of the bar. Young Adam Ross, who, as I come to recall it now, seemed mighty surprised to see a mint julep appearing in his hands. By the time Stella's attention returned to us, conversation had turned to other matters. Namely the lady Don has been stepping out with in recent weeks, Miss Jessica Angell, who's made quite an impression on my deputy.

Hammerback's mysteries aside, all seems well in Hattanville at present. There've been rumours of cattle rustlers preying on small-holdings further north, but we've had no sniff of trouble within our boundaries. Not since that remarkable day five months ago, when Stan Gerrard and his gang of outlaws tried to steal what rightfully belonged to the town.

I gotta admit, there were points during that day when I wondered if we'd all survive to see another sunrise. But we defeated Gerrard and recovered the stolen treasure, thanks in no small part to Hammerback's dynamite, Stella's use of it, and the quick thinking of several folks - Stella and Hammerback themselves, Don, Doctor Hawkes, young Mr Ross, Daniel Messer and Miss Lindsay Monroe. It ain't so easy to outwit the good citizens of Hattanville.

Quite a day, and one which has passed into the legends of the town. All of it written down faithfully for posterity by Hammerback, who's since declared himself the keeper of the town's records; not only births, marriages and deaths, but how they all came to pass, and every other event of note. Now there's a riddle wrapped in an enigma of a man none of us have managed to figure out entirely yet. But a good man, and one to whom we're grateful for many things.

Town Historian and Undertaker is how he's describin' himself - even had it engraved on the sign outside his establishment, and he's often to be found scratching away with a quill pen in a ledger of huge proportions, immersed thoroughly in the deeds and doings of Hattanville. But I'm mighty glad of the job he's doing, it's good to have a record of our history. We've some stories worth hearin', even in a small town such as this. It ain't just folks in the big cities that have their tales to tell.

The dynamite though. I do feel it's a sheriff's duty to be aware of all that goes on in his town, and despite Hammerback's heroism that day and subsequent civic duties, it can't be right and proper for citizens to hoard explosives, so I'm keeping a more than careful eye on him.

And on everyone. Still troubles me to think what might have happened that day in the saloon if circumstances had been a little different. If Don hadn't had his wits about him and figured out what Gerrard was up to; if Hammerback and company hadn't been as brave as they were; and if Stella hadn't been such a sharp shooter… plain fact is, not a one of us would be here today.

I got a lot to be grateful for. Not least that as I walk down Main Street on a beautiful December morning, said sharp-shooting lady is walking at my side, her hand tucked through my arm. Even as I'm considerin' that, her voice breaks into my reverie.

"What you thinkin', Mac? You've been awful quiet all morning. Got somethin' on your mind? Somethin' troublin' you?"

Should've known I couldn't keep much hidden from Stella. Truth is, she's hit the nail on the head. Thoughts _have_ been troubling me ever since that day, and I can't shake the feeling that out here, in the empty landscapes of the West, we're vulnerable. It's gotta be faced; we're a small town in a big country, and it ain't as welcoming out there beyond our borders as we pride ourselves on being in Hattanville.

Don't want to burden Stella with my troubles needlessly, but she's giving me that look; kind of look that sends a bolt of lightning fair shootin' through my veins. The look that makes me feel she's seen clean into my head and heart. There ain't much she don't see.

"You all right, Mac?"

"I'm fine, Stella…"

I know I ain't fooling her, but it gives me a moment to gather my thoughts. I glance over to where I can see Daniel Messer and Miss Monroe enjoying each other's company. They're outside Sinclair's Hardware Store - it's become something of a Saturday morning tradition for the two of them, shopping in the store, and a soda at the Star Saloon afterwards. Been happening ever since they became officially engaged four months ago.

Despite the cold, there are a fair number of folks out enjoying the sunshine. I suspect this is going to be one of the last pleasant days we're going to be having in a while - the clouds on the horizon have a look of snow heading our way fast, sorta' thick and grey as gruel. Gives me a shiver as I look up into those heavy skies.

Stella gives me a concerned glance, and I face up to her eyes, "Just thinking about the winter this year. Reckon we're going to have some blizzards to deal with before long. Folks are going to need to be prepared with plenty of provisions, in case we're lookin' at the town being snowed in again."

It's a pressing worry in my mind, along with all the others I got. It's too few years since the last bad winter we had. It led to a real hard time for folks - we lost a number of our oldest and youngest citizens who succumbed to the bitter winds and snow that blew down off the mountains. And if there hadn't been some judicious stockpiling of supplies, we'd've faced a famine.

At my side, I can see Stella's face slipped into a frown as she squeezes my arm, and I know both of us are remembering those times. Hard times.

But before either of us can say any more, we're interrupted by shouting, a pounding of hooves and a tumult of dust blowing towards us. Dashing down the centre of Main Street, on a collision course with the hardware store, foam flying from mouth and nostrils, eyes peeled back to the whites, is the usually placid palomino belonging to Hawkes, with the good Doctor himself hanging on for dear life.

Stella and me ain't stopped staring for more than a second before we're both flying towards the horse. Neither of us knowing exactly what we can do, but knowing we gotta do _something_.

Someone's faster though. Amidst the shouts and screams of the townsfolk comes a loud hallooing and a small figure on horseback appears as if from nowhere. A lasso snakes through the air and lands with a neat hiss around the neck of the runaway horse, stopping it in its tracks. It skids to a halt, tiding up a wave of dust, and tossing the doctor to the ground. We rush over, followed by a small crowd.

"Hawkes! What in the world happened? Are you hurt? Talk to me!" Stella helps him to his feet, as I lay a hand on the sweating neck of the horse, trying to soothe the poor beast. Hawkes is up in moments, brushing the dust off of his suit, and reassuring us as to his well-being, but I note his legs aren't entirely steady and there's a sheen of sweat across his forehead.

I'm holding back the folk who've gathered round like hawks themselves for any tidbit of information about what's happened, and more importantly, who the rope-wielding stranger is.

After making sure neither horse nor rider are too much the worse for wear, I turn to the young man who has just hopped off his horse and is standing a little self-consciously in the middle of the street.

People start crowding towards him, wanting to shake the hand of the person who's likely saved the life of the man who's saved so many other lives in the town.

I feel it's my duty to intercept, before the good folks of Hattanville overwhelm him, so I step over and hold out my hand.

"Name's Taylor, Sheriff of Hattanville. It appears we owe you a debt of thanks, sir. Wouldn't like to say what might have happened had your rope skills not been to hand."

The young man, dressed in chaps and a plaid shirt, with a battered white stetson jammed on his head, returns the handshake with a strong grip from a small, sun-browned hand. A smile appears from underneath the hat, and a Texan drawl, in a surprisingly high voice answers me.

"Well now, Sheriff Taylor, it's mighty nice to make your acquaintance, but begging your pardon, sir, I gotta tell you, you've made a singular mistake in addressing _me_ as such…"

Both Stella and Hawkes have joined me, Hawkes limping a little, and the rest of the town folks are pressed close up behind them.

I'm not entirely following what he means, "A mistake?"

"A _miss_-take indeed!" A laugh chimes out from the stranger, and his stetson is pulled off to reveal long dark locks of hair and a face that is most definitely _not_ that of a young man.

Gasps and exclamations ripple through the crowd, and I gotta admit, I'm fair nonplussed at this turn of events. Seems as if the hero of the day has revealed herself to be a heroine.

Stella, for which I'm much obliged, takes it in her stride and catches hold of the young woman's hand to shake it warmly, "Mighty pleased to meet you. I'm Stella Bonasera, and this here is Doctor Sheldon Hawkes. Who do we address our thanks to?"

At this, the young woman looks a trifle discomfited, "Well gosh darn it, I don't know that you need to be addressing thanks, but if you're looking for a name, then I'm happy to oblige y'all. Kelly Higgins, lately arrived from Dallas, Texas. Come to seek my fortune out West. Pleased to meet you too."

Hawkes, still a little dazed but never less than a gentleman, takes his turn to shake her hand.

"Thank you sincerely, Miss Higgins, if I may be so bold as to address you as such?"

The young woman grins, "You can address me as Kelly, Doctor Hawkes. Miss Higgins don't sit right with me. Formality ain't somethin' I'm over-fond of."

"Kelly it is then." Hawkes's face breaks into a smile, "And, please, call me Sheldon."

"Sheldon. That's a name that sits well with me. Happy to make your acquaintance."

The crowd soon disperses as folks, having gotten over the novelty of a new face in town, return to their usual Saturday morning business, and the four of us are left in the street.

I face the doctor, "What happened, Hawkes? Yours ain't a beast to behave in such a way."

He checks the animal, expert hands running over his flanks and withers, "You're right there, Taylor. Fact is, something spooked him. I was on my way back from visiting the Lazy Q ranch - got a couple of fever cases there - when, as I passed the old gunpowder works, a noise which I swear sounded like a gunshot, rang out. Next thing I know, old Bill here is rearing up and taking off with me clinging for dear life to the reins! It's shaken me, I can tell you."

It strikes me he's speaking no less than the truth. Never seen the doctor so ruffled. Usually he's one of the calmest and steadiest men in town, able to reassure a nervous patient with a few words and a kindly look.

Once again, Stella takes over with exactly the right words and looks herself, "I reckon after such a shock as this, you two need to step right on over to my saloon. And I won't be taking a cent from either of you…"

But Miss Higgins, as polite as you could wish, declines firmly, "I'm obliged to you for your kind offer, Miss Bonasera, but I'm not a gal for drinking liquor."

"Then at least let me fix you up some sodas?"

Hawkes takes a turn, "How about we take a stroll over to my residence, and my housekeeper, Mrs Wildman, will make us something good to eat?"

Miss Higgins looks hesitant, so the doctor presses the offer further, "It would be a pleasure to have some company to share a meal."

He wins a smile, "In that case, I accept. Been getting a little saddle-sore I confess, it's a mighty long ride from Texas. Be good to sit down and enjoy victuals with another soul."

"I hope that doesn't offend you Stella, if we turn down your generous offer?"

Stella beams, "Hawkes, it'd be a rare day indeed for _you_ to offend anyone. You tell Mrs Wildman to treat you both royally. Mac and I'll no doubt step over later."

"We will indeed." I step back into the conversation, "Only to make sure you've suffered no ill effects. That was quite a tumble you took."

"Gotta have someone to doctor the doctor, ain't that right, Hawkes? Reckon you're almost as bad as Mac is about takin' care of yourself when care is needed."

She pins me with a glare and takes a hold of my arm again, as the doctor and Miss Higgins depart, "Don't be disagreein' with me, Mac. I ain't forgotten, nor quite forgiven you yet."

I'm thankful the street's almost emptied of folk, so there are few witnesses to the flush creepin' over my face. Clearly Stella ain't going to let up on me so easy over the unfortunate incident last Tuesday, when I stepped in between her and a cowpoke so intoxicated he couldn't even remember his name, or that it ain't the smartest idea to go raising your fists to the proprietor of the Star Saloon - a woman who owns more pistols than the rest of the town put together.

But I tried to play hero, and took a blow to the temple. Knocked me out cold. I came to with Stella standin' over me, holding a bottle of smelling salts in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other, and wearing a look that betokened trouble for me. And it was trouble I got when I told her there was no need for Hawkes to be involved. Still, I gotta admit, a wrathful Stella Bonasera is certainly a sight to behold. A very fair sight indeed.

One I'm more than certain I'll face again at some point. There's a part of me, a part I try and keep buried, that enjoys lighting the touch paper of her anger, and watching the sparks fly. Only now and again, mind. Doesn't do to have too much of a good thing…

I'm letting my thoughts wander away with me though, and thoughts of touch paper and sparks bring dynamite to mind again as we walk over to my office. Seems as good a time as any to try asking Stella again if she can cast any light on the curious matter of the explosives in the back yard.

"Stella." I begin as we reach the door, and I open it to let her pass through, "I'm wonderin' if you …"

Fate intervenes once more, and my question don't even reach its end. Soon as I enter the office, the sight of a very large and very official looking envelope sitting on my desk stops me in my tracks.

Stella sweeps it up, "Looks important in that big white envelope and with that impressive looking seal on the back. Best open this quick, Mac. "

I can't help but grin at the curiosity burning in her as she leans over my shoulder while I open it carefully. A thick sheet of paper, covered in the insignia of the railroad company, unfolds in my hand, and I read through the few lines written.

And read them again.

And then once more to make sure this isn't something I've imagined.

I can only believe my face has turned as white as the paper as Stella's expression changes to alarm, "Mac? Mac, what is it? What does it say? What's happened?"

My voice seems to have died as I hand over the letter and watch as she scans it once, then twice, then a third time. Her hands start to shake, and her face flushes crimson.

I should be more careful what I wish for. Stella's exploding with rage, but it's directed full blast at the contents of that letter and whoever made the decision outlined in there.

She's spitting fire and dynamite, "How… how _dare_ they? How can they _do_ this? Mac, tell me they can't do this! It's _wrong! _What gives any jumped up clerk far away in the big city the right to do this to us, huh? Tell me they can't _do_ this!"

"Can't do what, Stell? Somethin' up? Only you sound a little upset…"

Don's standing in the doorway with an amused look on his face, and I hadn't even heard him approach. It jolts my voice back to life, as I take the letter from Stella and pass it over, knowing any amusement is going to vanish rapidly.

"You'd better read this. Seems Hattanville's gotten in the way of the railroad company and their plans for extending their business." I take a deep breath, still not able to comprehend fully what I've read, "It appears they need a few more acres to make a few more dollars. They're giving us a week before a big new railroad's built right through the centre of Hattanville, and the town destroyed!"

Don's face is a study in disbelief. And I know all three of us are thinking the same thing. This can't happen. We can't let this happen.

Hattanville's our _home_.

**Do you like it so far? Please review and let me know what you think! Next chapter up soon. Thanks, Lily x**


	2. Bad Day At Hattanville

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Notes**** Chapter 2: Thank you very much for the reviews for last chapter - please do continue reviewing. This is a bit of an unusual story, but please tell me what you think of it! ****Thanks to: _Moska_ for your review, sorry I couldn't send a proper reply; _webDLfan_ for very useful information; _afrozenheart412_ for some extra thoughts; and _Blue Shadowdancer_ for reading. **

**Dedicated to _iluvCSI4ever_ for creating an icon for this story - the link is on my homepage.**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 2: Bad Day At Hattanville

Flack:

I gotta own, I'm in a predicament here - my wits seem to have deserted me as well as my powers of speech. A temporary state I'm hopin', but fact is, Mac's gone and given me one of the biggest shocks of my life. Rates even higher than when Messer told me he was makin' an honest man of himself and gettin' betrothed to Miss Lindsay Monroe. And that news near enough confounded me. Messer's a lucky man, and I'm more than happy for the both of them. Deep down, once you get past all that tough talk and shady past, Messer's got a heart of gold. I'm hopin' he takes good care of Miss Monroe's heart in turn. She's done him a power of good, even bringin' out the gentleman in him not many people realised existed. So I turn a blind eye to the games of dice he indulges in now and again, long as I'm still seein' him indulging his sweetheart with bunches of flowers and boxes of chocolates.

A betrothal was news to make a man smile; the news contained in this letter sure as hell ain't making any of us smile. Here the three of us are, none of us entirely knowin' what to do or say; and the cause of our being dumbfounded is the letter still in my hand. Kinda' feels like it's burning a hole in my palm. Heck, this is somethin' we'd never have dreamed of even in our worst nightmares. Hattanville _destroyed? _A _railroad_ built through it? No way. That ain't gonna happen. Long as I got blood flowin' in my veins, that _ain't_ gonna happen. And I know Mac and Stella are feeling the same way too. Same as the rest of the townsfolk are gonna feel when they hear 'bout this.

Can't rightly take it in. The bare-faced cowardice of it near enough makes me choke! That some pen-pushin' clerk way out east in the big city can send folks a letter telling them their town's going to be flattened don't bear believin'. They don't even care to tell us in person. Reckon those fat cats of the railroad company don't dare show their faces anywhere near Hattanville. Thinkin' on that matter though, if any a one of them _do_, I'll be first in line to say straight what I think of them and their plans. And maybe it won't just be _sayin' _that I'll be doin' to 'em…

"What do you think?"

Mac's found his voice again, and there's a cold, hard note in it. His eyes too; got more ice in 'em than the storm clouds blowing over the mountains. He's addressed the question to both of us, but Stella answers first.

"We need to get ourselves a plan of action, that's what I'm thinkin'. These no good low lives ain't gettin' away with _this_. Give that letter here, Don."

Her words bode no good for whoever's penned this correspondence, and I'm glad to be rid of it as Stella plucks it out of my fingers, and gives it a look usually reserved for the spiders I know she hates the very sight of. The ones that go scuttling back into their holes at the sight of her brandishing a long-handled broom, if they ever dare venture into the saloon. Reckon they're the only things that can put even a hint of fear into our saloon owner. There ain't much, if anything, you could rightly say Stella's afraid of.

Plenty of things that make her angry though, and the railroad company's just been added to the list. Yep, she's steamin' mad right now, and I'm willing to bet she's half a mind to ride all the way to the big city itself and take on the men of said company single-handed. And I know everyone in town would be rooting for her. Wouldn't be betting against her taking every single one of 'em down either.

Never forgotten how she dealt with a grizzly that'd wandered down from off of the high plains last bad winter we had. Remember well how it came down Main Street, bold as you like, and stopped outside Sinclair's hardware store. Put its paws up against the door and caused one heck of a ruckus trying to force its way in. Customers were screaming, trying to barricade the door, terrified that ol' bear was going to bust right in amongst them. Perhaps he just wanted a taste of the cured hams Sinclair had hanging up in there, but jestin' aside, we were looking at a real serious situation. A hungry beast's a mighty dangerous beast.

Mac and me were over at the drug store as I recall, sortin' out a little difficulty Mr Novak had. Soon as we heard the commotion, we raced out just in time to see Stella firing out of the saloon, rifle in hand, and a look of grim determination on her face. She hollered at that grizzly, got it distracted away from the store and lumbering towards her instead, so folks inside could make themselves safe.

All that time, Mac and me were standing with our hearts hammering, armed only with our pistols, which woulda' done no more than bounce bullets off of that old bear's hide and made it even madder. Beast got within ten feet of her, snarling and rearing up on its hind legs, and I never forget thinkin' she'd finally taken on more than she could handle, when a shot rang out from her rifle, and the bear dropped down stone dead into the snow, a bullet right between its eyes.

We were stood there, kinda' frozen ourselves, till Mac came back to life and flew over to her demanding to know what the hell she thought she was doing puttin' herself in danger like that. Still not sure whether I'd describe Mac as brave or foolhardy for arguin' with Stella while she was holding a loaded and still smokin' rifle, with a dead grizzly at her feet. Anyways, it all ended with certain people stormin' off in a red-hot fury, leaving certain other people to swallow their masculine pride and be makin' a fair number of apologies over the next few weeks, until tempers had cooled and cordial relations were restored.

And so they both lived to tell the tale. Unlike the bear. Not a part of which went to waste over that winter. We're a town that makes good use of all it has. Sometimes it feels like we're just scraping by, existing out here amongst the plains and the mountains, but it's given us a true spirit of survival. One that we're gonna need if we're to carry on surviving…

"You got any plans formulating there, Stell?"

She's burning holes in the paper with her eyes and flicking it with her fingers before she makes her pronouncement, "Yeah, I sure as hell have. First thing I reckon we need to do is pen a reply post-haste, telling these - these _leeches _in no uncertain terms that we ain't gonna accept this. Mac, you're good with the written word. Reckon you oughtta be the one to do that, being Sheriff and all. That's gotta carry some weight. You agree, Don?"

I do, "She's right, Mac. First things first. This ain't somethin' we hesitate on. You write up a response to 'em and see what they got to say for themselves. In the meantime, we don't waste our time. We get ourselves fired up for whatever else we might need to do to stop them takin' us off the map."

Mac considers this, and I can fairly say I ain't never seen such a look of anger in his face. He's a man whose whole life's bound up in this town and its population, and to have them threatened in this way's hit him hard.

He looks between us, "I'll write the letter, but there's somethin' else we gotta be thinkin' of, namely, what do we tell folks? Do we go out there and announce that in a week's time every single one of us is going to be without a home? Or do we keep it between the three of us until we figure somethin' out?"

I can see how takin' this decision's taken hold of Mac; man's caught worse than a rabbit in a snare, and it's time like these I can see on him the loneliness of that star he wears night and day. Never seen him without it. I'm prepared for its responsibility though, whenever the time comes for me to take it on. When that time comes, I'll be proud to follow in Mac Taylor's footsteps.

Stella's bitin' her lip as she offers her thoughts, "I don't truthfully know, Mac. My gut's tellin' me we gotta tell folks, but my head's sayin' we don't want to be causin' a panic amongst 'em."

Mac's feeling the weight of his position real hard. But he ain't ever a man to shirk his duties. Fact is, he's mindful of them to a fault sometimes; takes on the whole town's responsibilities at times it seems. I take it as my sworn duty to support him in his decision making, even though I don't always agree whole-heartedly with him. Sure, there've been times we've clashed, but neither of us are men to hold a grudge. And this ain't the time to be thinkin' of past times.

He's waitin' for my opinion, and that ain't somethin' I'm gonna hold back on over this matter, "If you're askin' me, then I think we owe it to folks to let 'em know how things stand, soon as possible. Could be someone's got some good ideas on this. We got a fair number of minds in town to ask."

Aint that the truth. A town full of over two hundred minds: some good; some bad; some downright odd. A certain town historian and undertaker comes to mind. Hammerback's got some mighty strange ideas in that brain of his. Remember well the time he tried experimentin' with chemicals of a dangerous nature, fancyin' himself as a scientist. Tried mixin' up a brew of all sorts of things that shouldn't rightly be mixed together, as we discovered. Caused one hell of a boom as Messer put it, nearly blew Hammerback to kingdom come and back.

Course, the events of five months ago proved he hadn't done with explosives. Don't like to think too much about why he had a store of dynamite in his lean-to, but it's something I ain't worrying about. Proved useful in the end for recoverin' the town's treasure. Bothers Mac though. He ain't said as much, but I've noticed the more than several times he's tried askin' Stella about it. And the more than several times she's dodged an answer. Strikes me that he might be better not knowin' what she knows about it. She knows somethin' though - I'd bet breakfast, lunch _and_ dinner on it.

Gotta admit, Hammerback's not a man lacking courage, or ideas that have come out sounding crazier than a barrel full of chipmunks, but have turned out to be just what was needed. Apart from the idea of mixin' up salt petre, charcoal and sulphur and settin' a match to the resultin' black powder…

Fortunately for him, and the rest of us, he's married to one of the sanest women in town. Mrs Hammerback's a darn fine woman, and one who makes the best lemon and seed cake in the state. Brings one over regular every day at half past eleven, ever since I expressed a liking for it a few months back. Fills the gap nicely between elevenses and lunch. Hammerback's a lucky man, married to a woman who can bake like that.

I'm hopin' one day in the not too distant future, I might be fortunate enough to have a wife of my own. My hopes on that matter have risen recently since I began steppin' out with Miss Jessica Angell. There's no finer woman in town, in my honest opinion, and as she's more than happy to prove to me, she's a darn fine cook herself. It's gotta be said, the way she can serve up a rib eye steak with all the trimmings is enough to make a grown man weep. She's found the way to my heart sure enough. And being a neat hand with victuals ain't the only appeal she's got…

But I'm getting distracted here from my main train of thought. Or maybe that ain't the best metaphor to be using. Fact is, I'm stallin' for time, not being certain what else to say. Maybe tellin' the rest of the town's gonna be the best thing we can do. Surely we ain't the only folks who could have some ideas about this tight corner we found ourselves in? Whichever way you look at it, two hundred odd minds gotta have more ideas than three alone.

Mac's sat himself down at his desk, considerin', whilst Stella passes him the fountain pen the town got up a subscription for, as a gift of gratitude to him for recoverin' the stolen treasure. Remember what a fuss there was tryin' to get him to accept it. Told us he felt wrong in takin' it when he'd been only a part of it being recovered. Rest of us wouldn't hear of him refusin' though, especially Stella, so folks got their chance to thank their Sheriff, and Mac got the chance to be told how highly he's thought of by us all.

Reckon I saw a gleam of water in his eye that day as he stood on the platform that Messer and Ross had knocked up between them in the town square, amongst the flags and bunting, and accepted the gold-plated fountain pen that'd been picked out for him. Quite a day that was too, coming after one of the most perilous days of my life. Never forget the shoot-out in the saloon, and the actions of every last person there. It weren't just Mac accorded the town's respect that day - all of us who'd helped defeat Gerrard and his gang received a medal and certificate of honour.

Mac and I got ours hanging on the wall of the office; happen to know Miss Monroe's got hers framed and hanging on the schoolroom wall; Stella placed hers above the bar in the saloon, and the others have got their own special places for their recognitions of bravery. Hits me hard as I think the places they've got their lives and livings tied up in being destroyed, just 'cause some rich man in the city decides he needs a few more dollars to eat a few more roast dinners in some fancy hotel. I'm determined, if it's the last thing I do, I'll stop Hattanville being destroyed.

And I know what else I need to say to Mac, "I think we gotta tell folks today. Reckon we'll have a better chance of coming up with plans. Suggest we call a town meeting, tell 'em what's happened, and take ideas. We're all in this together, Mac."

The pen in Mac's hand drips a single drop of ink.

Stella looks between the two of us, "I gotta agree with Don. This is a matter for the whole town. And I got a further suggestion. How about we hold the meeting in the saloon? Reckon I can fit everyone in there, might be a bit of a press, but we'll manage. Don and I can take ourselves round the town and knock on folks' doors. We'll get Adam Ross and Hammerback to help us out. You can be gettin' on with that letter whilst we do so, Mac."

She hands him the blotter from the handsome writing set she bought him herself to match with the fountain pen.

There ain't been no relaxin' of his features all this time, but finally he nods, "All right. We'll call a meeting for this evening, in the saloon. Tell folks I'm expectin' every last man, woman and child to be there. This is somethin' that's gotta be heard by everyone. Soon as you're done, I'll see you back here and we'll discuss how we put this across without causin' a panic."

"Sure thing, Mac. We won't be lettin' you down." Stella peers outside, then turns to me with a frown, "Best put somethin' warm on. Looks like snow out there."

I follow her gaze through the window, and sure enough white flakes are idlin' down, so I pull on my greatcoat.

Stella's already wrapped her cloak round her shoulders, "Hammerback's first, then we'll collect Adam from Novak's. I suggest you and he take the left side of town, Sid and I'll take the right side, then we'll meet up outside Sinclair's."

I can't suppress a grin, "Got this figured out already, huh?"

Stella winks, "Someone's gotta be the figuring out one amongst the three of us. Might as well be me."

She manages to draw the closest thing to a smile I've seen from Mac since I walked through the door earlier.

"Keep an eye on Hammerback, don't want any more explosive incidents…" His eyes meet Stella's and it seems as if he's about to say more, but she's already flurrying out of the door.

"Give 'em hell, Mac." Are my last words to him as I step out into the snow.

I catch up to Stella and it doesn't take us long to collect Hammerback and young Ross, and start our door-knocking and informing. It's a tough task, I gotta admit, not givin' in to folks' natural curiosity as to why we're askin' 'em to meet at the saloon, but I take no shame in using my status as Deputy to stop some of the more persistent folk - Doc Hawkes's housekeeper, Mrs Wildman, being one in particular. She almost loses her false teeth right outta her mouth in her eagerness to draw answers outta me, and tell me about the young lady the Doc's dining with. But I escape eventually and make my way towards the last house on our side of Main Street, the dwelling of Miss Jessica Angell as it happens.

I can just about make Ross out behind me through the snowfall, as I head over. Other than us, street seems deserted. Only sound's my boots kinda' scrunching in the snow that's settlin' thick on the ground already. I hear footsteps approachin', and stop to wait for Ross.

Except it ain't Ross who's suddenly got a knife pressed up against my throat and a cold voice cutting into me, telling me I gotta pass a message to Danny Messer from his old buddies up state - that they ain't forgotten him and how he ratted on them to get himself outta trouble with the law…

Then the voice stops and the knife moves a fraction away from my throat. I'm about to spring when something heavy hits the back of my head. There's the sound of footstep's runnin' away as I'm falling and landin' face down in a snowdrift.

Kinda' feels like dynamite's goin' off in my head, and I'm cursin' and strugglin' to get up. Then there's footstep's runnin' towards me, and someone's shoutin' my name…

**The bear trying to get into the store really did happen when I was in Wyoming, but he was a black bear who was led away safely by rangers and named Louie :D Please review, I hope you liked this chapter! Thanks, Lily x**


	3. The Good, The Bad and The Handsome

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Notes**** Chapter 3: Thank you very much for the reviews for last chapter - please do continue reviewing! I really hope you're enjoying this, as I know it's a very different story to my last one. Please let me know what you think, even if you aren't sure about it, I'd really appreciate that. Thanks to: ****_Juliette_ for your review; _shadowfox_ for your reviews of 'Lost Letters'; _chrysalis escapist _and _afrozenheart412_ for some more thoughts; and _Blue Shadowdancer _for reading.**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 3: The Good, The Bad and The Handsome

Angell:

One moment I'm standin' at my window lookin' out at the snow, and the fine figure of Hattanville's Deputy walking towards my doorstep; then after takin' a moment to check on the roast dinner in the stove, I hear a fuss and commotion, and my Deputy's disappeared from sight! All I can see is the figure of a man runnin' away into the whiteness, and another figure lyin' on the ground. It don't take more than another moment to throw my shawl round my shoulders and run outside.

It might only be late morning, but the sky's gone real dark, and it's difficult to see much with the snow whirling down. However, I can see it's a familiar figure lyin' there just a few yards from my door…

"_Don!_" My heart almost stops, I gotta own, until I see him movin', "Don! You all right there? What happened? I saw someone runnin'…"

I reach him just as he raises himself up on his knees and elbows, and kinda' shakes himself. There's snow stickin' all over him, almost beginning to cover him up, and his hat's been knocked clean off his head.

"Miss Jessica…" He begins, and then wobbles a little as he struggles to his feet, so I take a hold of his arm, just so's he don't fall over again, and pass his hat back to him, after brushin' the snowflakes off it first.

"Now don't you be doin' too much talkin' yet, Don, you come inside with me and we'll get you warmed up and straightened out, and then you can tell me what just came to pass. You on your own out here?"

I can hear his teeth chatterin' so loud, it sounds like a clatter of horses' hooves, so I'm walkin' him rapidly towards my door. Gotta keep him movin' nice and brisk, can't have him catchin' his death o' cold out here in a blizzard. That wouldn't be doin' at all. I'd sorely miss the warmth of his hand in mine when we take our afternoon stroll down Main Street, now that we're officially courtin'.

"Was out with Stella, Hammerback and Ross." He tells me, "On my way to call on you, Miss Jessica."

"Well it's real lucky I was about to take that joint of roast beef out of the stove." I wink at him, "The one you, Ma and Pa are going to be served up for dinner later. Maybe I can give you a taste beforehand though, so's you can tell me if I got the right amount of seasonin'."

"Real lucky indeed, thank you..." He manages a smile, but it drops right back to being a frown, "But I gotta make sure the others are all right - someone threatened me and knocked me down, and I reckon the outlaw who did so's a dangerous sort, don't want anyone else in danger."

I look around and see sight of three figures hurryin' over to us; as they get closer I can make out Miss Stella, Mr Hammerback and Mr Ross. I pat Don's arm.

"Now don't you be worryin' either, though it's noble of you to do so, 'cause I can see them all safely headin' our way. See?"

We wait for them to catch us up. Mr Ross is the first to reach us, calling out as he comes. Never known such a man for agitatin'. Soon as he's in front of us, his hat is almost falling off his head, and he's catchin' it with one hand, then tryin' to run the other hand through his hair, endin' up knockin' the hat right back off again. I pick his hat up for him as well and dust the snow off.

"Th- thank you, uh, Miss… Miss Angell. Mr Flack, sir, are… are you all right, sir? I - I don't rightly know what happened, I was right behind you, then Mr Colter called me back, and… and I had to answer his questions about a certain delicate condition he's sufferin' from, 'cause it woulda' been rude not to, and… and then I lost sight and sound of you, until just now when… when I heard Miss Angell's voice."

"What happened, Don? You look real shaken up. Everything all right with you, Miss Angell?" Miss Stella's got a look of concern on her face as she joins us, Mr Hammerback too.

"I'm fine, thankin' you, Miss Stella, but Don's had somethin' of an unfortunate encounter..."

Mr Hammerback adds his opinion, "You look as if you've seen a ghost, young sir. Although of course I don't believe in such things as the spirits of the dear departed, but it's a proven fact that weather conditions such as this can cause your eyes to play supernatural tricks on you." He pauses and looks a little flustered as he takes off and then replaces his spectacles, "That is not to say of course that I'm suggesting your eyes are anything but reliable, Mr Flack…"

Don's looking grim, and I can tell the anger at whatever's just come to pass is warmin' him up again as he answers, "It weren't no ghost or trick of the snow I saw, Hammerback. It was solid no-good flesh and blood that held a knife to my throat and hit me on the back of the head. Seems someone wants to make a few threats, and against one of us in particular."

Someone's threatened Don, and I ain't happy about that at all.

"You know who it was? Recognise anyone from our 'Most Wanted' posters?" Miss Stella's asked that question standin' with one hand on her hip and the other takin' a pistol out of her cloak, and I reckon it's not the only one she'll have with her. I always keep one tucked into my petticoats, but if rumours in the town are to be believed, she keeps at least twenty hidden about her person. According to Don, Mr Daniel Messer has a bet placed as to the exact number, but I don't reckon he'll ever be able to discover the true number and collect on it. Fact is, I always get the feelin' Mr Messer's a little scared of Miss Stella. Can't put my finger on it - just a feelin' I get from the times I've observed him sorta steppin' behind Miss Monroe when they pass Miss Stella and the Sheriff along the street… But he's always more than polite to her; raisin' his hat and makin' a point of complimentin' her appearance. It's somethin' I'll ask Don about one of these days. See if he can tell me any more about it; he and Mr Messer've been good pals for some time.

Meanwhile, Don's shakin' his head at Miss Stella, "He'll be long gone. Off to some hidey-hole somewhere. Can't say I know who he was, but he gave me a few clues. Reckon he might be involved in all this cattle rustlin' that's been going on further north. But I don't want to say no more about it out here, and about who it was he was directin' his threats against." I can tell this has shaken him, more than he's lettin' on.

I give them my view, "Real cowardly act it were, creepin' up on you and then a cosh in the back of the head. Didn't even dare show his face. True cowardice I call it."

Everyone nods in agreement, but it still don't make me feel any less mad, lookin' at Don and seein' how this has upset him. I'm also fumin' with myself for not gettin' out there sooner and usin' my pistol. I got a real nice Smith and Wesson Pa gave me when I came of age, same as my brothers got. Pa don't believe in treatin' me any differently to them in most matters, which I'm grateful for. Can't imagine not owning a pistol, or not being able to shoot with one either. Could hardly believe it when Miss Monroe confessed to me she was given her first pistol by Miss Stella only a few months ago. I know she still gets lessons in sharp-shootin' from her too.

But she's gettin' pretty darn good, is Miss Monroe - only broke one window of Pa's outhouse the other day when she called round to show me how she's progressin'. So I'm givin' her a few extra lessons too, and I reckon between Miss Stella and myself, we'll have her shootin' almost as sharp as Miss Annie Oakley soon.

But back to our present dilemma; and after hearin' what Don's just said, Mr Ross is fair hoppin' about in the snow, and I can almost see the questions shootin' out of his head. I'm wonderin' if I oughtta mix him up a little somethin' to calm his nerves - I keep a brew of herbs and such for Ma when hers get bad. Usually after Pa's been practisin' his skills on the fiddle, somethin' he's taken a fancy to learnin' recently. Pa's fingers ain't the sort designed for playin' the fiddle, and our ears ain't the sort for wantin' to listen to him try either; but tryin' to persuade him of that ain't easy.

However, first things first; I gotta get everyone indoors and in front of the fire we got burning nicely in the parlour, as I can't help but note we're all still standin' in the street with the snow turnin' our hair and clothes white. Ma and Pa are always welcoming of visitors, and I know they got a deal of respect for the Deputy of Hattanville, as well as Mr Hammerback, Miss Stella and Mr Ross.

"How about we all get ourselves inside and outta this snow. Won't take me a moment to put on some coffee to warm us all up. What do you say?"

Mr Hammerback's the first to answer me as he takes hold of my other arm in a most courteous fashion. He may be a little eccentric, but he's a gentleman from the top of his hat to the tip of his boots. Even if they are rather dusty boots and the hat's probably lived more years than I have.

"I for one think that is a _most_ sensible suggestion, Miss Angell. And so too, I'm certain, do all these other good folks." He says, givin' them no chance to disagree. Miss Stella puts her pistol away, reluctantly it has to be said, and I soon got a little party headin' over to our house.

In no time at all, I'm entertainin' a parlour full of guests and Ma and Pa are recountin' tales of life on the smallholding we had out on the prairies, before we moved to Hattanville. Ma starts boastin' too about the grandchildren she got from each o' my dear big brothers. All four of 'em still live out on the Kansas prairie, and it's one heck of a long wagon ride to visit, so we don't get to see 'em more than once a year.

I don't miss the significance of the look Ma gives me over her best china as she mentions grandchildren, and how her eyes kinda' slide over to Don. I'm concentratin' however on servin' a cup of coffee to Miss Stella whilst she's doin' that, and hopin' my blushes ain't obvious. Poor Don's also lookin' a little red of face I note. Fortunately for us, Mr Hammerback starts recountin' a strange tale, and any thoughts of grandchildren are soon forgotten by Ma.

So it's an interesting' hour we spend before Don glances at his pocket watch, just as Mr Hammerback seems about to launch into another story, and jumps to his feet.

"Beggin' your pardon Mr and Mrs Angell, Miss Angell, but I think we've taken advantage of your generous hospitality for long enough. Hour's gettin' late and the Sheriff's gonna be expectin' me back. We got a few things we need to be doin' before the meetin' this evening'. Can I rely on you good folks bein' there?"

Pa stands and claps Don on the shoulder. He's got a mighty strong arm has Pa, used to be a Deputy himself back east, as he's talked to Don about many a time. Reckon it's somethin' that's helped the two of 'em find a deal of respect for each other though, and I'm sure glad about that.

"Don't be frettin' yourself, young fellow. The three of us'll be there, you can rely on us. And if there's any help you might be needin', you can rely on us for that too. Aint' that right?"

Ma and I give our reassurances. I'm mighty curious, I gotta admit, to know what exactly this meetin's about. I got a fear it ain't gonna be a happy announcement - neither Don nor Miss Stella have quite got rid of their serious looks all the time we been sittin' here. They know somethin' more than the rest of us, but I know they'll have their reasons for keeping' silent. Just hope it ain't somethin' real bad.

I'm worried too about Don bein' attacked on the street in the middle of the day. Gotta be a desperate man who tries takin' on the Deputy of Hattanville. What's worryin' me most though is how much it's rattled Don. He still ain't quite got back the usual rosy colour in his cheeks, and he even refused a third helpin' of my apple pie and cream, had to give it to Mr Ross instead, and that's got me _real_ worried. Sure ain't like him to turn down my bakin'. So I'm wonderin' how I can find a way of findin' out and helpin' out. Gotta think fast though as he, Mr Hammerback, Miss Stella and Mr Ross are all givin' their thanks and goodbyes to Ma and Pa, and preparin' to depart…

But as it turns out, Don turns to Pa and asks permission for me to accompany the little party back to the Sheriff's office. Pa gives his consent, and we set out once more into the snow.

Even the short journey down Main Street's a treacherous one now the snow's fallin' real heavily, so we hurry along to get back into the warmth. Mr Ross is needed at the drugstore, so we see him safely there - none of us wantin' to take a chance whilst there's still the possibility of an outlaw still out there.

After that, the four of us continue to the Sheriff's office. I walk with Don, whilst Mr Hammerback engages Miss Stella in conversation; I can't catch much of what they're saying as they're a little way behind us, but I swear I hear the word 'dynamite' mentioned. Musta' been mistaken though, can't think why either one of them would be talkin' about that. Reckon I musta' misheard. Although it strikes me that there ain't many other words that sound like dynamite…

Before I can puzzle any more on the matter though we've arrived and Don's holding the door open for me to pass into the office. It ain't a place I've been very often, and truth be told, the times I have, I've felt a little nervous. Not that Sheriff Taylor's an intimidatin' man, leastways, not to anyone who ain't done wrongdoings - reckon to lawbreakers he don't show much friendliness. He greets me with a smile and a handshake however, and pulls out a chair for me to sit down on by the fire. There's a troubled look in his eyes though, same as Don and Miss Stella got, and it gets me worried again. Somethin's not right at all here. Mr Hammerback's also been offered a chair whilst the others stand and sorta' look at each other. Before I can help myself, I find my mouth's open and words are comin' out of it.

"Sheriff, pardon me for speakin' out of turn and all, but if there's anythin' at all I can help you with, whatever's happened, you only gotta ask…"

He looks at Don, who gives him a nod, and it reassures me no end, "I appreciate you speakin' up, Miss Angell." The Sheriff says, "And there may be somethin' you and Mr Hammerback _can_ be helpin' us with." He stops and heaves a sigh, and Miss Stella gives his arm a squeeze, "Plain truth of the matter is, we got ourselves a mighty big problem…"

No more than ten minutes later and I realise exactly what kind of a problem we're _all _facin'. Can't hardly believe it. Why, Pa and Ma and I only been livin' in Hattanville a couple o' years, but it's a place we consider home. That some railroad company want to be tearin' it down doesn't bear thinkin' about.

But at the same time, I'm torn, feelin' another feelin' - pride. As the Sheriff's asked me and Mr Hammerback, our official Town Historian, to be doin' some researchin' into who properly owns the land Hattanville's built on. He knows I've had a fair amount of schoolin' back east, and I'm happy that all the time I spent miserable over slates and textbooks are goin' to be of some use finally. The schoolhouse sure wasn't a place I was fond of when I was a small girl - I'd have much rather been out fishin' or climbing trees with my friend Billy Jenkins.

The Sheriff's gonna be askin' Miss Monroe too, as she's another educated lady, and a mighty smart one too. Reckon she's had more learnin' than I have to be teachin' school no less. Gotta admire a girl for that.

Don's real pleased that the Sheriff's asked me to do this, and I'm happy I can help out. Course, I'd be happy to be helpin' in other ways too - reckon I might need to remind folks I can shoot a pistol and a bow and arrow as well as I can read dusty old books, if it should come to anyone needin' to be firin' weapons. Which I guess I'd better hope it doesn't…

Anyways, the rest of the day passes quickly as Mr Hammerback and I make a start on our investigatin'. Don helps me carry over some of the heavier record books and ledgers to Mr Hammerback's establishment, and I'm pleased to see once we're over there that he's recovered his appetite enough to share in the tea and cakes Mrs Hammerback serves us. There's no chance, however, to ask him any more about the threat from the outlaw, but I know he'll tell me when he's good and ready. Miss Stella and the Sheriff are busy in the saloon, settin' up for the meetin', and shooin' away the many folks who find a pressin' need to be hoverin' by the doors.

In no time at all, evenin' draws in and we head over to the saloon. Never seen so many people gathered together, seems the whole town has done the Sheriff proud and turned out. Quite a sight. There ain't a whole lotta room, but no one seems to mind. I smile at the folks I know well; Mr Messer and Miss Monroe arrive together and find a space by Don and myself; Pa and Ma and sit themselves near the front; Doctor Hawkes and the young lady who caused so much excitement with her arrival this morning occupy two seats together, and seem to be enjoying each other's company; and Mr and Miss Novak come with Mr Ross and take a table together.

The last person to arrive squeezes themselves in at the back with an apologetic look, and then conversation dies down as Sheriff Taylor takes his place at the front with Miss Stella at his side. He knocks on the bar with a glass and wins everyone's attention in a second. I realise I'm holdin' my breath, and Don's holdin' my hand. There's a second of silence, and then the Sheriff begins to speak…

**Please, please review and tell me what you think! It really helps me continue, if you'd like me to :D Thanks, Lily x**


	4. A Fistful of Deeds

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Notes**** Chapter 4: Thank you very much for the reviews for last chapter - please continue reviewing! I hope you're enjoying this. **

**Please let me know what you think, I'd really appreciate that - I got a bit worried about the last chapter : ( Please give my writing ego a boost! Thanks to: _afrozenheart412_ for extra thoughts; _Miss Poisonous _for conversation; and _Blue Shadowdancer _for reading, and putting up with unsubtle hints about updates XD**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 4: A Fistful Of Deeds

Danny:

Gotta confess, I'm a little nervous. Somethin's up with this meetin' and I got a hunch the Sheriff aint' gonna be tellin' us we've all been given a gift o' dollar bills. Though that sure would be a sweet thing. 'Specially now as Lindsay and I have gotten ourselves engaged, and I gotta be thinking' 'bout all kinds o' things I ain't never had to think of before. Things like suits and chapels and flowers. Expensive things.

Still can't fully get my mind round it - me, Danny Messer, gettin' _married_. Never thought I'd see the day. Reckon no one else did neither, but two months from now, Miss Lindsay Monroe and me are gonna walk down the aisle in front of the whole town. It's the sorta' thought that brings a man out in a cold sweat even on these winter nights. Lindsay's got it all planned though - she and Miss Stella have been talkin' dresses and such, and she and Miss Angell have been talkin' 'bout everythin' else. Makes no sense to me; Lindsay's the one with the smart head on her shoulders, so I figure it's best leavin' arrangements to her.

She sure is a capable and organisin' woman, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Reckon she's done me a power o' good. Sure feel like a different man to the one that rode into Hattanville almost three years ago now. Time flies when you're with the woman of your dreams and she's walking at your side down Main Street. Feel sometimes like I want to jump up on the rooftops and shout out for the whole state to hear that I got me the best girl in the whole country. Miss Lindsay Monroe, soon to be Mrs Lindsay Messer. I'm a lucky man.

And a man who's bein' stared at by said Miss Monroe and gettin' a nudge in the ribs, no doubt to let me know my concentration's been wanderin'. Probably as well for her not to know exactly where it's been wanderin' to. Happens now and again when I get to thinkin' about my soon to be wife; find my mind goes to all kinds of places. Places my mind ain't officially allowed to be wanderin' to. Leastways, not till we're married…

The Sheriff's about to speak so I'd best be listenin', otherwise Lindsay ain't gonna be happy with me, and an unhappy Miss Monroe ain't somethin' I want. Already got Flack lookin' an unhappy man, despite him comin' in with Miss Jessica Angell. Gave me a look I don't rightly know how to interpret; seemed like he wanted to say somethin' to me, but there weren't time before the Sheriff stood up at the front. Guess I'll find out soon enough though.

Flack ain't the only one with somethin' on his mind; look on Miss Stella's face is enough to put fear in a man's bones. Grim don't even begin to describe it. Sometimes think every last one of us in town's more than a bit afraid of the Saloon owner, and I count even the Sheriff amongst us. Guess she don't discourage folks from thinkin' that neither. Gotta admire the woman though; she's braver than most men I know, and don't think twice about puttin' herself in danger to help folks and takin' on challenges that'd send others scuttlin'.

Same as my Lindsay. Now there's a woman who's brave too, only p'raps you wouldn't think it so much to look at her. Kinda' got a timid air about her, must be somethin' about those gentle brown eyes. But she ain't afraid to stand up for what she knows is right. Remember her layin' into big John James not so many months ago. James is a man who likes to throw his weight around the town. Considerable weight and height he is too - Lindsay don't even come up to his shoulders, and reckon she's less than half as wide as 'em. A big man, but one with a little heart, and not man enough to show much kindness to his motherless daughter, or send her to school for any learnin'. Well that was somethin' my Lindsay weren't gonna accept, so she challenged him right on his doorstep. Worked too - didn't take long before she got him to agree to send little Nellie to school.

Courage ain't somethin' Lindsay's lackin'. Many things she ain't lackin o' course; beauty, brains and love for a poor city boy like me, which is somethin' a lot of people find most surprisin', me included. Lucky I got me a good buddy in Flack who reminds me now and again to buy flowers and candies for Lindsay. He's a straight talkin' man is Flack, keeps a man like me on his toes, even though I reckon Miss Jessica Angell's swept him off _his_ feet. It ain't escaped my notice, the two of 'em sittin' there at the back, sharin' a small space. Sharin' the same expression, and knowledge too I'm thinkin'. Same knowledge Sheriff Taylor's about to share with the rest of us…

Only takes a few minutes for him to tell us what he knows and for the whole of the saloon to fall as silent as the grave. Lindsay's grabbed a hold of my hand, and truth be told, if I didn't have the warmth of her fingers in mine, I could scarcely believe this is all real. Hattanville _destroyed? _No way. This is some kinda' weird, twisted story made up by someone to befuddle us poor folks. It's _gotta_ be. This _can't _be real.

Can it?

Everyone's sorta' sittin' and gapin'. Reckon my mouth musta' dropped open like a goldfish, and Lindsay's eyes are almost poppin' outta her head. Then everything erupts and it seems like the whole town's jumped to its feet. Makes a hell of a racket, more than two hundred pairs o' boots clatterin' on the floor. Even old Mr Stonebridge has heaved himself outta his bath chair and is wavin' his walkin' sticks in the air, yellin' and shoutin'.

Hattanville ain't gonna be destroyed! If I'm the last man standin' in this town, it ain't gonna happen. Lindsay and me are gonna make this our home for the rest of our lives. Get ourselves our own little piece of the American dream, raise a livin', maybe even raise a few kids. Long way off though _that_ might be…

Lindsay's turned to me, horror in her face, "Danny, this can't happen! This ain't right!"

"You're damn right it ain't right!" I'm shoutin' but I'll be darned if I'm gonna stop now. This calls for shoutin' _real _loud. Got folks all around me doin' the same, and somethin' sorta' takes hold o' me. Next thing I know, Lindsay's face is below me and I'm standin' on a table shoutin' to the whole saloon.

"Who's with me on this, huh? Who's gonna join me in takin' on these low lives? You all gonna let these outlaws take away our town?"

There's a roar from the crowd and it kinda' gets into my blood; feels as if it's fizzin' like the sherbet I used to buy when I was a kid. My fist punches the air. "I say we show these folks of the railroad company we mean business! We wait for 'em to get their no-good asses down here and then we show 'em Hattanville's citizens don't go down without fightin'! What d'you say to that, huh?"

There's cheers and shouts and I don't hear nothin' else but them and my blood sorta' poundin' in my ears. Don't see nothin' else but faces with mouths open, all cheerin' and agreein' with what I'm sayin. Me, Danny Messer, talkin' and a _whole town_ listenin' to me! It's a powerful thing for a man to feel. So I keep goin, "I say every last one of us who can hold a pistol should be holdin' it to meet those railroad folks off of their train when they come to town!"

I'm gettin' carried away with myself, but seems like I can't stop, and don't _want_ to stop. Seems like other folks don't want me to stop either. Got my fist raised in the air, and my other hand's reachin' for my pistol; reckon I got an idea of firin' it into the air, but then I look down and catch sight of Lindsay's face again.

And it's the way she's lookin' at me that stops me dead in my tracks. A look that fair blows my heart to pieces. Boom. That's it. I come back to my senses. Messer, what in hell d'you think you're _doin? _Hits me then that I'm in the saloon, standin' on one of Miss Stella's tables and I got the whole darn town lookin' at me. Includin' Miss Stella herself. She looks more angry than a nest o' hornets someone's rattled with a stick. This is bad. _Real_ bad. Everyone's lookin' at me, and it ain't a good feelin' anymore. 'Cause the only person I really care about's lookin' at me with a look I don't care to see.

Lindsay's ashamed o' me. Can tell by the way her cheeks are pink in the middle and her eyebrows have kinda' crashed together, and even over the shouts of the crowd goin' mad for shootin' up those railroad folks, I can hear what she says.

"Oh, _Danny!_"

Nothin' else matters then other than the fact I've made her ashamed of me. My knees weaken and I slide off of that table and back down to the floor beside my girl.

"Lindsay…"

I try takin' hold of her hand, but she's havin' none of it, and then the Sheriff's bangin' on the bar, "Quiet everyone! There'll be no more talk of weapons until there has to be!"

Might be just me tryin' to cover up my own blushes at his words, but I swear there's a look of disappointment on Miss Stella's face soon as he's said that… One o' these days I'll collect on that bet I got with Adam Ross as to how many pistols Hattanville's saloon owner carries about with her. Ross has bet ten, but he don't know the half of it. My money's on twenty, and I'll get my winnings one day; even if I have to ask her myself. Or maybe not. She's caught my eye, and if looks could kill I'd be stone cold dead. Best be keepin' a low profile, in case she has somethin' to say or _do_ to me for gettin' my boots all over her table.

Whilst the Sheriff's calmin' folks down and answerin' questions bein' shouted out to him, I risk a glance at Lindsay. And wish I hadn't, "Danny Messer, sit down like a gentleman and behave yourself! Don't you _dare_ be showin' yourself up again by jumpin' on tables and shoutin' like a heathen! Why, the little ones in my schoolroom know better than to behave like that! Don't you be lettin' your hot temper be gettin' the better of you. There's always other plans to be puttin' into action before we start usin' pistols."

Wise words, and I know she's right, but I'm still rebellin' inside. Guess I'd best do as Lindsay tells me though. She may have gentle brown eyes a man could lose himself in and honey coloured hair a man could lose his hands in, but she's got a will of iron when she needs it. Still catches me by surprise when I catch sight of myself in the mirror and realise that Miss Lindsay Monroe is gonna be marryin' _me_. Just hope I don't wake up and find it's all been a sweet dream…

I'm headin' off on another daydream. Good thing I got Lindsay to bring me back down to earth by givin' me a nudge in the ribs.

"Danny! You ain't listenin' to the Sheriff!"

Got an iron elbow as well as an iron will has Lindsay.

"I'm listenin'! I'm listenin'!" I hiss, and rub my side.

Now Hammerback's walkin' up to the front of the crowd with a mighty great book in his hands. Taylor bangs on the bar again and everyone falls silent, "Mr Hammerback has somethin' to tell us all, so listen up good!"

Hammerback peers over his spectacles at us all, "Thank you Sheriff, thank you fellow citizens. Now, I must tell you that, with Miss Jessica Angell's help, I've spent a _most_ interesting afternoon undertaking a search for information."

'Undertaking' Ha. Who'd've thought Hammerback had it in him for a humorous remark such as that. I'm sniggering; quietly o' course…

_Ow!_ Man, Lindsay sure does have a solid elbow.

"And I certainly found plenty of interesting information in relation to our current difficulty…"

Come on Hammerback, don't keep us waitin' here. Strikes me that the man goes at a slower pace than the rest of us over many things. Maybe it's 'cause he's a thinkin' man. Or maybe it's to do with him spendin' so much time around those who ain't ever goin' to be hurryin' again. Either way, I see the Sheriff startin' to tap his foot whilst Hammerback flips over a few pages in the book he's got propped up on the bar.

"The land Hattanville is built on, and the surrounding acres, all belonged to a Mr Isaac Stephenson, a prospector who made his fortune in the Gold Rush of '49 and settled out here in the wilderness. He used his fortune to build Hattanville for himself and his wife, a Native American Indian who he called Jenny - the lake below Mount Moran is named for her. As well as the town, he established the gunpowder works, which fell into disrepair some years ago…"

"All good information, Hammerback, but how does that help us?"

The Sheriff's asked what I was about to; if I hadn't been bruised from Miss Monroe's elbow and afraid o' more assault.

"Well now, Taylor…" Hammerback removes his spectacles and polishes them on his sleeve. The Sheriff has a pained look on his face, and folks around me are kinda' leanin' forward in their chairs.

"The truth is…"

He replaces his spectacles. Miss Stella has her hand on the Sheriff's arm, and Hammerback might be well advised to hurry on up with his talkin'. The Sheriff's a man not known for violence, but even so…

The Town Undertaker and Historian clears his throat and continues, "Stephenson's wife died very young, and they had no family. He died a lonely widower. A sad tale indeed…"

He shakes his head. Sheriff looks about ready to shake him by the shoulders. Miss Stella's got a real strong hold on his arm though. Bet _she's_ got an elbow of iron as well…

But Hammerback seems to have picked up the hint and continues, "Yes, very sad. He's buried on the shore of Jenny Lake, next to his wife…" He pauses again, seeming about to reminisce, then he catches Taylor's eye and continues, "But most importantly, poor Stephenson passed on to the next world leaving deeds and a will behind. _Most_ unfortunately, these have since been lost. But according to records, he left Hattanville and its land to the residents of the town; to be managed by whoever is Sheriff." He peers over his glasses at Taylor, "Which at present is yourself."

There's silence for a moment, then the Sheriff bangs his fist on the bar, "We need those deeds and that will!"

Man speaks sense, I gotta say. Where there's a will, there's a way…That rhymes! Wonder if I should tell Lindsay? Nah, she might be usin' that elbow of hers again…

"If we can prove Stephenson left the land and the town_ to _the town, then we got what we need to stop the railroad company. They can't take what's rightfully ours!"

You tell 'em Sheriff! Everyone's on their feet, Lindsay included, so I figure I'm allowed as well. The whole town's cheerin', and Miss Stella's givin' Taylor a kiss on the cheek. Now there's a thing; who woulda' thought the Sheriff of Hattanville a blushin' man? Hammerback's lookin' pleased as punch up at the front of the saloon; he might be a mighty strange man, but he never lets a man or a town down… town and down; maybe I oughtta be writin' a bit o' poetry one of these days. Reckon it's a thing a woman likes… But I got plenty o' time to be thinkin' o' poetry and such when this meetin's over and I'm escortin' Lindsay back home.

Now Hammerback's askin' Miss Angell to come up and join him. She's holdin' back, but Flack's leadin' her up to the front - back and Flack, hmm, might be kinda' hard to work _that_ into a romantic sort of poem… geez, I gotta get a hold of myself, folks might start lookin' at me funny. Specially Flack. Wonder if he writes Miss Angell poetry?

But Taylor ain't finished speakin' yet and for the third time this night, he bangs on the bar for our attention, "Before we all get too excited and start celebratin', I'm gonna have to remind you folks of a soberin' fact. Grateful as we are to Mr Hammerback and Miss Angell, we still don't know _where_ that will is, and without it we ain't got much hope against the railroad. So we got a lot more work to do to find it."

Reckon I hear a few groans of disappointment, and some of 'em might've come from me. Quiet ones though, don't want no more digs in my ribs from Lindsay.

Miss Stella ain't easily defeated though, "Whatever it takes, we'll find it, Mac! And _we_ gotta be the ones findin' it before anyone from the railroad company does!"

I mightn't have the brains and learnin' of certain other folks in town, but I ain't a man to give up when somethin' needs fixin', "You can count on us, Sheriff, Miss Stella!" I yell out.

"Thank you, Mr Messer. I had no doubt of that." The Sheriff answers, and even Miss Stella has a smile for me. Reckon Lindsay gives me the best smile of all though.

We're all fired up and willin' to be findin' wills, when the door of the saloon bursts open and a man falls through, gaspin' and whiter than the snow that falls in with him. Recognise him as workin' on the ranch by the old gunpowder works…

"Help! Help! You gotta help, Sheriff!"

With Miss Stella close behind him, Taylor's pushin' his way through the crowd. The man grabs a hold of the Sheriff's waistcoat, "Bad things happenin'… real strange noises… seen real strange things…"

"Where? What've you seen?"

"Haunting's! Hauntings in the old gunpowder works! Things that oughtn't to be there…ghosts…"

"_Ghosts?_ Ain't no such thing!" Flack snorts. Gotta commend him for his plain speakin'.

But the man don't reply. Instead, he gives a horrible kinda' chokin' sound and falls face down to the floor. There's a rattle o' breath in his chest and then it stops.

Lindsay clutches hold of my arm, and there's gasps of horror from folks as Taylor bends down and turns the man onto his back. It's all too plain he ain't gonna be gettin' up again.

Ever.

"Whether there are or there aren't such things as ghosts." The Sheriff says, "Ain't important right now…"

He stands up and looks round at all of us, "Because it sure weren't a ghost that put a bullet in this man's chest."

Reckon you could hear a pin drop in the saloon as we all take in what he's sayin'. So now it ain't just a will we gotta find.

Seems there's a killer out there needs findin' too.

**Hope you liked it! Please review, and Happy Christmas and New Year :D Thanks, Lily x**


	5. Way Out West

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Notes**** Chapter 5: Thank you very much for the reviews for last chapter - please continue reviewing! I hope you're still enjoying this. Thanks for all alerts and favourites, and to: ****_afrozenheart412 _for some extra thoughts; and _California Fox_ and _Juliette_ for reviewing 'Sunset'.**

**Please review and let me know what you think, I'd really appreciate that. Dedicated to _iluvCSI4ever_ for nagging me to update and reading :D**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 5: Way Out West

Sid:

It has to be said, it is _not_ a regular occurrence for customers to fall at my feet. The usual habit is for loved ones, or otherwise, to call on me, and a wagon is brought round, always with the utmost discretion. Sometimes, admittedly, customers have come to me in more _unusual_ circumstances. I remember the time one poor fellow was left outside my door in a handcart with a label round his neck, having been found in the hills by some good-hearted fur trappers. He was given a decent and honest burial, but we never did discover his name. There have been other cases of that nature, all of them buried in the town cemetery, each with an unmarked wooden cross; God rest their souls.

Thinking of customers' unusual circumstances also brings to mind poor Mr Edwards, who kept the remains of his dear wife…

"Hammerback!"

Taylor's calling me and it seems he wants me to have a closer look at the dead man. In all honesty, I expect this man, and most of my customers, would rather not be patrons of S. Hammerback and Son, Undertakers. But in life, death is inevitable and I take comfort and a certain amount of pride in belonging to an honest and ancient profession. Although not the oldest profession in the world, it bears saying. _That_ would not bear thinking about…

The truth is, that in a profession such as mine, I will never run out of customers until I run out of life itself. And I hope sincerely that it is a _long_ time before that happens; I have too many things yet to do, including seeing my dear girls happy and married with families of their own, continuing the proud name of Hammerback… even though it will be under a different name. I sometimes wish we had also been blessed with a son, but I cannot make any complaints; Martha and I have been blessed enough with two remarkable girls who would make any father proud.

I wonder if this poor fellow had any family? If so, it is sad news they'll be receiving only a few weeks before Christmas. Yes, it is the tragedy of life, that even in the midst of it, death can strike; and it's something that takes most folks by surprise, as this poor fellow lying on the floor of Miss Stella's saloon has once again proved. The nature of my business is something I think about on quieter afternoons in the parlour, before Miss Monroe's children emerge from the schoolhouse, and before Miss Stella's patrons converge on the Saloon. Evidence of the cycle of life, it has to be said.

We're a small town, but we have all seven ages of man represented, as Mr Shakespeare so eloquently puts it. All the world's a stage indeed. And tonight in our little world of Hattanville, the stage seems to have been set for a dark and deadly mystery; a dead man, a bullet and talk of ghosts. I can see folks are looking nervous and casting their eyes around, as if expecting phantoms to be appearing out of the blizzards. Which as science and evidence tells me, is _not_ something that will happen, but superstition's a powerful thing, and as I bend over to examine the man more closely, if it weren't for the bullet hole in his chest, I could almost believe he had been frightened to death.

As I told Mr Flack earlier today, however, I do not believe in ghosts or spirits, and I will continue to disbelieve until science proves me otherwise, yes sir. It certainly is a disconcerting thing though, to have a man fall through the door with a cry for help that came too late, and to hear his dying words whispering of other worlds.

What other worlds do we go to beyond this one I wonder? And if so, what can we expect? I wonder how a humble town undertaker and historian such as myself would be received, and _where_ I would be received. Possibly it is a place similar to the vast wilderness we live in here; with the majesty of mountains and clouds; or possibly it is a little like Idaho.

If only my customers could share with me what they see when I send them on their way into the always unknown. What tales dead men, and indeed women, could tell. This poor fellow in front of us all was taken too soon before he could finish his tale. Dead men tell no tales? I rather fancy they do. Oh yes indeed. And so do the living as well; there are plenty of tales to be had from the residents of Hattanville, and it's been my privilege to write them down for the generations to come to learn from and enjoy, and this man's tale is one that will be told for many dark winter evenings to come…

"Hammerback! Any thoughts?" Taylor barks at me.

The Sheriff, I believe, is not a man who spends his time pondering on the great mysteries of life and death, he simply makes it the business of his life to make sure his citizens do not come to an untimely death, and that there is justice at least for those who do. This poor man lying in front of us will have the comfort of knowing that the Sheriff of Hattanville will not rest until he has answers to this mystery.

It may be I can provide some for him, as I've noticed something as I'm bending over the man's deceased form.

"Do you see this, Taylor?" I point to a mark on his leather waistcoat. Taylor peers in for a closer look, and Miss Stella leans over too, resting a hand on his shoulder. I fear it is not entirely suitable for a lady to be involved in such a situation, but then it has to be said that Miss Stella, not least in the eyes of Taylor, is no ordinary lady.

"I see a man with a bullet hole in his chest. What else do you see, Hammerback?"

"This." And I point out to him, and all the other folks who have crowded round, a dusting of black powder on the dead man's waistcoat.

"I am almost certain this substance is gunpowder. It has a very distinct texture."

Distinctly dangerous properties too, as I had the misfortune to discover during a most unfortunate incident a few months ago, when a scientific experiment did not go quite as planned. Fortunately, there was very little damage done, thanks to Martha's quick thinking and actions with a bucket of water. I escaped with no more damage than singed hair and eyebrows, which took a while to grow back, giving me a lopsided expression for quite some weeks. It caused one or two of the more sensitive folks in town to look at me with expressions approaching alarmed until I regained my usual appearance. Since that time I have been more cautious with my experiments, leaving things of an explosive nature to other people…

"Gunpowder? What the heck's this man doin' with gunpowder on his waistcoat?" Mr Flack demands.

"If I knew the answer to that, I would gladly tell you, young sir. But it seems to me that a logical explanation would be that he brushed against some gunpowder, thus transferring it to his waistcoat…"

"From the gunpowder works, maybe. Stands to reason, don't you think, Mac?" Miss Stella looks expectantly at Taylor, and I see the look he returns her. Almost seems at times as if the Sheriff of Hattanville and the Saloon owner don't even need words. It's often the way between Martha and myself, it has to be said; I know when I've prattled on too long, or have taken up an unwise hobby when a certain frown and lowering of the eyebrows occurs in her dear face. Yes, Martha is a woman to be admired. And feared too at times. As is Miss Stella, as I suspect many of the men in town have found. Not that they would admit it to anyone. Though I have noticed a certain, shall we say, _caution_, on Mr Daniel Messer's countenance whenever he encounters the very fair Saloon owner.

I myself have had no cause to raise the wrath of Miss Stella, but I have seen many a time when Taylor has. Some of the disagreements they have had in the past have fair shaken the roof tiles off the Sheriff's office. I remember the time when Taylor had taken…

"You sure this is gunpowder, Hammerback?" The man in question is giving me a certain look. Taylor is someone who can speak most eloquently without words, and I see a man who is saying to me quite clearly that he is looking for answers, as rapidly as possible.

"I would swear to and bet on it, if I was a swearing or a betting man, Sheriff."

As it stands, I am neither. I strive to be nothing less than a gentleman, and cursing in particular is most definitely _not_ gentlemanly behaviour; though the younger fellows in town now and again let a curse slip, and I have been most embarrassed on occasion to have heard unladylike words escape Miss Stella's lips. Regarding betting, I've heard rumours in town that Mr Messer has a bet concerning the Saloon owner and her pistols. But I know nothing about this of course…

"Anythin' else you notice?" Mr Flack asks, tapping his foot on the ground. He is also a man very keen for answers on matters, and I'm happy to oblige him, as he is a good man in an age when they are often hard to find. Hattanville, however, is a town with no shortage of them. Good women too, and I'm happy to see that Mr Flack has found himself a good woman in the very ladylike form of Miss Jessica Angell. Yes indeed, it gives me, a man of more senior years, a warm glow in my heart to see the courting of younger folks who are dear to me.

"Nothing else that stands out at present, although I suggest we take this unfortunate gentleman over to my parlour and we can examine him in more private circumstances." I answer him.

It has struck me that we are very much in public, and it seems most unseemly for a dead man to be talked over and examined in front of the whole of Hattanville, and in the presence of ladies, some of whom are very gentle souls. It would be a terrible thing to have any incidences of the vapours amongst them. Even with Miss Stella's spirits, of the alcoholic kind, to hand.

"Sounds like a good plan to me." Taylor says and straightens up. Then with a nod to me, he turns and raises his voice to address the townsfolk who are all craning their necks to see, "All right folks, here's what we're gonna do. First, I want to thank each and every one of you for comin' out tonight in weather as unsociable as this, I'm mighty grateful to you all. As you can see, we got a lot to be thinkin' about and doin', but followin' the tragic events we've just witnessed, we're gonna have to attend to certain things first. Before you all return to your firesides, I gotta ask a favour of those who remember Isaac Stephenson, the builder of Hattanville, or any of you whose parents and grandparents knew him. Any tales or knowledge of him might help us in findin' these deeds, and I'd be mighty grateful to have any information, however small or insignificant it might seem, as it could be what we need to save our town."

A mighty cheer arises at the Sheriff's words, and promises come from every corner to undertake what he has asked. Then the bar begins to empty and folks make their way back to homes and hearths. Very soon, there are only a few folks left; myself, Taylor, Miss Stella, Mr Flack, Miss Angell, Doctor Hawkes, and his companion, Miss Higgins.

"What now, Mac?" Mr Flack turns to the Sheriff with his thumbs hooked in his belt and a concentrating look on his face, "We takin' him over to Hammerback's?"

"That still suitin' you?" Taylor asks me.

"By all means; I would not have made the offer otherwise. I suggest we cover him as decently as we can against the snow, and carry him over there."

"I got just the thing!" Miss Stella hurries off, returning in moments with a large sheet that appears to be covered in marks of some sort. Marks that appear to be paint. "Got this for coverin' up some of my furniture when Mac tried redecoratin' in here a few months back."

She gives the Sheriff a laughing look. Gracious me, I believe this is the second time tonight she has brought a blush to the cheeks of Hattanville's Sheriff.

Mr Flack looks highly amused as he takes the sheet, "What happen, Mac? You have a little accident with the brush? Manage to get anythin' on the walls at all?"

I feel a certain amount of sympathy for Taylor, but he retains his dignity as always and simply shrugs at his Deputy.

"Turns out that paintin' an entire saloon is not as easy as I first thought, Don."

Miss Stella pats him on the arm, "It ain't Mac, and you did your best. And it certainly gave an interestin' look for a while to the walls."

I would describe it as a definite snort of laughter that Mr Flack gives, however he says no more and does a sterling job of supervising the wrapping of the dead man by myself and Doctor Hawkes, and we are soon transporting him back to my parlour.

Doctor Hawkes, Taylor and I carry him between us whilst Mr Flack and Miss Angell walk with Miss Stella and Miss Higgins; Mr Flack seemed most anxious to accompany the ladies, so the Doctor and Taylor offered to assist me with the carrying of our dead friend.

In no time at all we have reached the parlour and find my dear, good Martha has set out for us steaming mugs of cocoa and plates of sandwiches. It takes even less time for Mr Flack to find his way towards them. However, he remains a gentleman as always and does not forget to offer them round to everyone first before taking a handful. Martha looks delighted as always to have her food appreciated and gives Mr Flack one of her special smiles. I do believe she has a special place in her heart for the Deputy of Hattanville; he certainly always finds a place in his stomach for her cooking and baking.

The dead man is found a suitable resting place for the night, and our little party settles in front of the fire in my sitting room. I cannot help standing by the window to look out at the snow that whirls down in dizzying fashion. Cold and terrible are the forces of nature in our corner of the world, and I thank heaven that I'm safe indoors on such a night, and my friends are safe here with me too.

But not for long it seems. Taylor's looking a restless soul indeed and has refused all offers of food. Something is on his mind, and I can see Miss Stella has noticed too as she's watching Taylor closely. Finally, he rises from his chair and stands with his back to the fire facing us all.

"Mac?" Miss Stella joins him, and the rest of us fall silent at the serious expression that has settled on Taylor's face. He has a look of determination in his eyes, and they're stormier than the blizzard that's raging just beyond the thin pane of glass in the window.

He sighs heavily and looks round at all of us, "We got ourselves a mighty big problem here." He says, "And it's one I ain't gonna keep waitin' till mornin'. Somethin's badly wrong at the gunpowder works; talk of ghosts, talk of strange noises, and a man who dies at our feet. These are troublin' things, and things I can't allow to happen to the folks of Hattanville."

"What you sayin', Mac? Can't say I'm rightly followin' you here. Care to elaborate?" Mr Flack finishes chewing on his sandwich and gives the Sheriff a curious look.

"What I'm sayin' is this, Don." Taylor answers him slowly, "I'm sayin' I'm gonna head out there tonight, to find out the truth of whatever's happenin'. If I wait till mornin' it gives wrong-doers a chance to be escapin', and I can't take that risk. I got a feelin' this is all connected; the railroad company, the missin' deeds and the murder of the man who's now lyin' in a pine coffin in the other room…"

Miss Stella has taken a hold of Taylor's arm; fierce only just begins to describe the expression on her face, and the curls escaping from the decorated combs she wears in her hair seem to be quivering with anger.

"You ain't tellin' me you're ridin' off out to the gunpowder works tonight, Mac! Have you _seen_ the weather out there? I know you're a man who acts on impulse at times, but this ain't impulsive, it's madness! You ain't goin' and that's that!" She folds her arms and presses her lips together.

Mr Flack's stood up too, and we got a square of people facin' each other here; myself standin' a little awkwardly, Mr Flack, Taylor and Miss Stella. Miss Angell, Miss Higgins, Doctor Hawkes and Martha are in their seats and lookin' between us. It would be fair to say you could cut the air with one of Martha's cake knives.

"I gotta agree with Stella on this, Mac. No way in hell you can be thinkin' of goin' out there tonight in this kinda' weather! You'll get yourself killed sure as anythin'."

"And I ain't havin' that, Mac Taylor!" Miss Stella pulls him round to face her, "I understand why you want to do this, I do, but you gotta realise you can't go puttin' yourself in danger like this!"

We've got two strong-headed people facing each other, neither of whom want to back down.

"I'm Sheriff of this town, and that brings responsibilities, Stella. This is a problem I gotta solve and it can't wait." Taylor's also folded his arms, and there's a look of stubbornness on his face I recognise well. Here stands a man who won't be moved; but it seems Miss Stella has not said all she has to say on the subject.

"Well then, if you're set on headin' out there tonight, the only thing I can do is make sure you ain't headin' out there alone!"

"And just what are you meanin' by that?" Taylor sends a dagger of a glare at her, which she deflects with an equally sharp look of her own.

"I'm comin' with you!"

**Sorry this took a while to post, I hope it was worth the wait, please review and let me know! Also, please take a look at my one shot 'Sunset'; and 'Twelve Days of Christmas', a collaborative story under the name _Lily and Blue. _Thanks, Lily x**


	6. The Big Country

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Notes**** Chapter 6; a ride into a perilous snowstorm for two of our heroes? **

**Thank you very much for all reviews, please continue! They're a great help with writing, and I really appreciate knowing what you think of this story. This is the second chapter from Mac's point of view, but all the characters will get their turn :D Thanks for alerts and favourites; to ****_iluvCSI4ever _for discussion; _marialisa_ for advice; and _chrysalis escapist _and _afrozenheart412_ for further thoughts.**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 6: The Big Country

Mac:

Can't hardly believe what I'm hearin'… No, on consideration, I _can_ believe it. Should've known to expect somethin' like this from Stella. But maybe if I repeat what she's just said, she'll hear it as the bad idea it is…

"You're comin' with me?"

"Got somethin' blockin' your ears, Mac? Maybe you didn't hear me right. If you're set on goin' out there to the gunpowder works, then yes, I'm comin' with you!"

Dang it. Now _she's_ repeatin' it and the more she says it, the more she's gonna convince herself it's a good idea. Which it ain't. There ain't no way I'm gonna have Stella riskin' her life ridin' out in a blizzard like this. I don't set much store by my own life, but I do by hers. She's got that look of absolute conviction in her eyes though, the one she gets when she knows she's doin' the right thing, and she knows she's gonna win whatever argument she's involved in…

Wait, what am I sayin' here? Argument? We ain't arguin'; I'm makin' a _statement_. And I'm gonna make it again.

"You ain't comin' with me, Stella, and that's final!"

She almost explodes. I swear sparks start shootin' out of her eyes, emerald green sparks. Looks like I've gone and done it again; made Stella real angry with me. Heck, if this weren't such a serious situation, I'd be admirin' the beauty of it…

"Mac Taylor, this is so far from final, it ain't even funny! If you're set on ridin' out tonight, even though it's against other folks' better judgements, then the only way I'm lettin' you do that is if I accompany you. And _that's_ final!"

'Lettin' me do that'? I got a feelin' that at some point I was unaware of, Miss Stella Bonasera has taken charge of my life and made it the concern of her own. Thing is, and what she maybe don't know is, that I've made it the concern and purpose of my life to protect _hers_, not least because I can't imagine mine without hers. So this puts us in a position of conflict with each other, and at present, I can't see no clear way out of this…

"If you two could stop yellin' for a minute..." Don interrupts my thoughts.

Truth be told, I'd almost forgotten we weren't alone in this room; I turn around and realise everyone is kinda' lookin' back and forth between Stella and myself, and they ain't lookin' too pleased. Especially not my deputy; who holds his hands up and continues, "Both of you need to listen up. Before either of you go makin' decisions as big as this, I reckon you need to hear some opinions from the rest of us - we all got important things to say on the matter, ain't that right?"

He looks round at everyone and they all nod their heads vigorously. Reckon I don't see a mite of happiness on any one of their faces. Don ain't finished all he's got to say either, "I gotta tell you. I don't care one bit for this plan. It's near certain death to be ridin' out in weather like this.

"I'm doin' this for the town, Don." I growl, even though there's a part of me that knows he's speakin' a deal of sense and I'm actin' real hasty over this. But what other choice do I got?

"Mr Flack is quite right, Taylor." Hammerback peers over his spectacles at me, "To even contemplate going out on a night like this speaks of nothing but recklessness. Any number of misfortunes could befall you out there. There is no pity in Mother Nature on a night like this."

"Mother Nature ain't gonna stop me savin' this town from a railroad company who've got even less pity in 'em, and who are doing their best to destroy us!" I can't help myself snappin' at him, even though there's a look of hurt in the man's eyes. Hammerback's a good man, even if I get more than a little impatient with him at times; I appreciate he's got my welfare at heart.

Seems the town undertaker and historian ain't the only one with somethin' to say though, as Hawkes raises his voice, "Taylor, I understand that you feel you're the one with sole responsibility for the town, however, you've got to remember that a package of deeds that may or may not be at the gunpowder works, is _not_ worth more than your life."

"This town's worth more than just my one life, Hawkes. It contains over two hundred lives, all of which are gonna be homeless and struggling to survive if the railroad company succeeds in what they're plannin' on doin'. So if there's a chance of findin' them deeds, then I'm seizin' it! Regardless of any danger there might be to_ myself._"

Can't stop myself glarin' at Stella, who glares right back. This is _my_ decision; whatever she might think, she ain't comin' with me. I'm no fool, I know ridin' out into a blizzard's gonna be risky, which is why I don't want anyone else doin' it.

Hawkes shakes his head, then Miss Higgins, stands up, "Hope y'all can pardon a girl for speakin' out of turn here, but maybe an outsider such as myself can provide a different view. Seems to me, meanin' no disrespect, Sheriff, that this has to be one of the most gosh darn foolish ideas I ever heard! And I've heard a hundred and more foolish ideas in my young life, yes sir. Travelled through many states from Texas to New York, and met plenty of foolish folk and their ideas. But I gotta tell you, Sheriff sir, that this idea o' yours beats a good many of 'em!"

I don't rightly know what to say to the young woman who's standin' in front of me meetin' my gaze head on and not flinchin', but there's somethin' about her plain speakin' that I gotta admire, even if it's at my expense. There aren't many who argue with me, and that ain't a thing of arrogance. Fact is, the badge of Sheriff, justified or not, instils a certain caution in folks. Works well against lawbreakers, but I want ordinary folks to feel they can speak honestly and frankly to their Sheriff.

Sayin' that, my badge certainly ain't never stopped Stella from speakin' her mind to me. She ain't a woman to hold back on expressin' her opinions, and that's somethin' I admire and respect, even if it means I get the sharp edge of her tongue on many an occasion. Maybe it's even somethin' I could say I love about her…

"You listenin' to all this, Mac?" She says to me then, and it brings me back to the unpleasant situation I'm facin'; a room full of people, all of whom are disapprovin' and even outright hostile to what I'm proposin'.

"I'm listenin', Stella, but that don't mean I'm gonna do as you all want me to do. I put the safety of Hattanville and its citizens above my own which is why whatever you say to me, and believe me, your opinions are ones to be respected, I got no other choice but to go searchin' for those deeds tonight."

"Then you're a stubborn man, Mac." Don says and shakes his head, "Stubborn and reckless. Much as I admire your bravery, I gotta tell you, I can't approve of this plan…" He heaves a sigh, and glances at Miss Angell, who looks as serious as he does, but gives him a small nod, "However, as your Deputy, I'm sworn to support you, and if you're hell-bent on goin', then all I can do is try and convince you not to go alone."

"See, Mac? Don's speakin' sense here…"

But he interrupts her, "No, Stell, I'm sorry, but I ain't suggestin' _you_ go with him. I'm sayin' _I'll_ go with him."

I ain't havin' that either. Don may be the finest Deputy a Sheriff could wish for, but it's that very fact that means I don't want him accompanyin' me. I gotta think about all the possibilities here, and if I don't make it back to town, then Hattanville's gonna need a good man to take over, and Don's the only man for the job.

"Neither of you are comin'." I say, before Stella's got a chance to argue with Don.

I risk a glance at her and seems as if she's fair smothered with too many things to say to be able to open her mouth. But when she does, I know all hell's gonna break loose; she's got her fists clenched and dynamite about to detonate behind her eyes. Don's also got a less than happy face; Miss Angell's wearin' a frown; Mrs Hammerback's gripped her husband's hand; and Hawkes and Miss Higgins, who has sat back down next to him, are exchanging a worried look.

It's Miss Angell who speaks first, "Sheriff, I gotta repeat what Don's said. Fact is, I may not have lived here as long as most of you, Miss Higgins excepted." Here she gives a smile to the young Texan lady, "But I know Hattanville's the place I wanna make my home, and make it my home amongst all of you folks. Now, I know too the respect that everyone in town has for you, Sheriff, and I know they'll all be agreed on this point; if you not ridin' out there tonight means the loss of those deeds, but the continuation of your life, then there won't be a single person complainin' 'bout that. Pieces of paper, which is all those deeds are, ain't worth the cost of a life!"

"Miss Angell couldn't have put it any better than I could, Taylor." Hammerback adds, still with his wife's hand in his, "Listen to the people in this room, people who concern themselves with your welfare almost as much as you do with theirs. Do _not_ go out into that blizzard!"

It's not often I'm moved by speeches, but I gotta confess, this is one of those times. This ain't somethin' I'm used to hearin'; I ain't a man for showin' emotions, and find it kinda hard to express myself at times, but all I know is that my heart feels like it's sorta swellin' up inside me, and it's with a feelin' that I don't know whether to describe as happiness or sadness. Reckon it's a mixture of both; happiness at the fact I got all these good people showin' so much concern for me, and sadness that much as I got respect for each and every one of 'em, I can't do what they want. No matter how many words they use, it ain't gonna stop me, 'cause I gotta go out there.

I gotta do what's right for the town.

I take my hat off, and hold it in front of me. Got a crazy sorta' thought that it might stop folks seein' and hearin' the way my heart's beatin' so fast, "Don, Hammerback, Stella…" I pause and risk a look at her, and wish I hadn't because it seems that although the anger behind her eyes is about to blow, there's sadness there too, and it fair breaks my heart to feel that's my doin'; but I gotta do this, "All of you; I appreciate all you've said, but this is my final word. When I took up my Sheriff's badge, I did it with the understandin' that I took on the responsibility of Hattanville with it, and the possibility I'd be called to undertake some mighty difficult tasks. Although I got me the finest Deputy a man could wish for, and the finest lady at my side that I could ever have dreamed of, there are some things I can't ask any one of you to do…"

Stella grabs hold of my hand, and pulls me round to look at her, "Mac, please, I ain't offerin' to help you 'cause I think I ought to, it's 'cause I _want _to! Same as why Don's made the offer. You're right, I'm at your side whatever happens, which means if we can't persuade you not to be settin' out, and I've a strong feelin' we ain't gonna be able to, then I'm at your side for that too, whatever the danger."

"I'm standin' by you too, Mac, as Deputy and as your friend. We ain't gonna let you go alone." Don's taken his hat off as well and is gripping the brim with hands that have gone white at the knuckles.

All eyes are on me now. Can clearly see in both Don and Stella's eyes that they ain't messin' about, and Stella's still got a grip on my hand that I can't remove. Truth be told, I don't want to remove it either. The feel of her warm hand on mine's somethin' I could live happily with the rest of my life. It's somethin' I _want_ to live with the rest of my life.

I open my mouth to speak, but Stella's got there first; she looks round at everyone and the set of her jaw as she makes her announcement, makes me realise I've already lost the argument, and never had any real chance o' winnin' it in the first place, "Mac, I know you're strugglin' to know what to say, so I'll speak for you. Here's the solution, and this is gonna be my final word on it, so both you and Don are gonna have to accept it…"

"You're not goin'…"

Don's figured things out already as well, but Stella cuts him off, "Yes I am. Here's the deal. Mac's set on goin' out there tonight, and we ain't gonna change that, 'cause when he knows a thing's got to be done', there ain't no way to stop him. So if we can't stop him goin', then we stop him goin' by himself. Meanin' _I_ go with him… no Don." She holds up her hand as he starts protestin', "You're gonna be needed here in town, ain't that right, Mac?" She don't pause long enough to let me answer, "If the Sheriff's outta town, you gotta have the Deputy _in_ town in case of any trouble. The rest of you are gonna be important here too; keepin' eyes open for trouble, and for any sign of those deeds or anythin' else helpful. Mac and I both know what we're doin' and we ain't goin' out there unprepared; we got plenty o' weapons between us, and we'll take all we need in the way of lanterns and such."

Stella ain't left me much else to argue with, and seems like everyone else has been left the same way. She looks round with determination in her face, "Guess that's all settled then. Now, first thing we need to do is get ourselves with plenty of warm things on, and get our horses saddled up. Come on, Mac, you can't stand there with your mouth kinda' hangin' open, nor can you, Don. Get yourselves movin' gentlemen!"

Almost without me realisin' it, Stella's taken charge and has got what she wanted. I'm left standin' in the middle of Hammerback's front room whilst everyone else starts busyin' around me under Stella's orders, and I'm still strugglin' to find the words I feel I should be sayin'.

Seems like only minutes pass before I'm standin' outside with a little group standin' around Stella and myself and our two horses. They're saddled and loaded up with lanterns, blankets and a goodly amount of provisions courtesy of Mrs Hammerback. The snow ain't let up one bit, and I'm mighty glad of the heavy coats both Stella and me have got on. No one's said much, and there's an awkward moment of silence as we both mount our horses. Can see there's gonna be much said, especially from Don, when we return. He ain't a happy man, but I can't fault him, he's respected my decision, and Stella's decision.

I ain't happy at all about her comin' with me 'cause of the risk she's takin', but I can't help but be glad of her company. Just wish we were headin' out for a more pleasant excursion and in weather better than this. Cold don't begin to describe the wind that feels like a knife against your skin, and snow that makes it near impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. I'm beginnin' to realise the danger we're puttin' ourselves in. But there ain't no goin' back now, and if this is a chance for us to find a way of savin' the town, I'm seizin' it with both hands.

"You ready?" I ask Stella, more abruptly than I intended, but she don't seem to notice.

"I'm ready. Let's go. We got no time to be wastin'." She gives a tug on the reins and calls out to the others as we set off, "Keep a fire burnin' for us, reckon we'll be in need of warmin' up when we return!"

"We'll do that. Just make sure both of you return before too long!" Don hollers back and the others add their agreement.

Then we're canterin' off into the snow, with the voices of our friends ringin' in our ears. We can hear them callin' even as they disappear from sight; callin' out for us to take care and get back safely. I can only hope with all my heart that we can do just that, and return home with the deeds to Hattanville safe in our possession.

We ride for some time in silence; seein' our way through the blizzard takes most of our concentration, and there ain't no other sound but the wind. Until both our horses startle suddenly, and we hear somethin' that sends the chill of the snow into my heart; a howl that keens and echoes across the white wastes, way too close for my likin'.

Soothing her horse as best she can, Stella turns to me with a grim look in her face, "Hear that, Mac?"

"I hear it." I answer, "The wolves are running."

Wolves driven down from the high plains by the snow; driven down by the cold; driven down by hunger and desperation. In that moment I'm aware that we're surrounded by the forces of nature at their cruellest and fiercest, and we're just two people out in a vast and dangerous wilderness.

**Hope you liked that! Lots more action comin' up :D Please review; poor Sid didn't seem to be so popular last chapter : ( Reviews still accepted for that chapter as well as this one of course! And I have a job at last! So reviews will make me even happier :D Thanks, Lily x**


	7. Dances With Wolves

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Notes**** Chapter 7; blizzards, wolves and danger ahead… Mac's point of view again, so I hope that's okay.**

**Thank you for all reviews, please continue! They're a great help with writing, and I really appreciate knowing what you think of this story. Thanks for all alerts and favourites; to _iluvCSI4ever_ for discussion; to _chrysalis escapist _and _afrozenheart412_ for extra thoughts; and to _Blue Shadowdancer _for letting me use half her name for Mac's horse and for discussing peril XD**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 7: Dances With Wolves

Mac:

We're ridin' real close together, with the flanks of my horse almost touchin' Stella's horse, so as we don't lose sight of each other. If that were to happen, I don't know that we'd ever find each other again out here, as the sky's dark as pitch and the snow whirling round is as good as blindin'. The blizzard ain't the only danger we're facin' neither; those wolves ain't ceasin' to howl. They're timid beasts usually, no danger or bother to folk, being more scared of us than we are of them, but in weather like this, hunger drives out their usual fear. They get a sniff of anythin' like food, and they'll go for it with all the sharpness of tooth and claw they got. And they don't care if their prey's man or beast.

Stella and I've each got a hurricane lantern hung on our saddles, and with the light they're casting, I can see dim shapes runnin' level with us, and runnin' closer and closer each time I look. They're gettin' bolder, and in a moment I reckon we're gonna have to be firin' off some warnin' shots at the very least. I catch a glimpse of yellow eyes blazin' in the light and a flash of teeth in an open jaw as Stella lifts her lantern up. There's the look of a desperate killer in those eyes, and it sends a chill through me.

_They're too close._

"We gotta go faster, Mac! Gotta try and outrun 'em before they spook the horses. And get your pistol ready!" Stella shouts and hooks her lantern back onto the saddle.

She's keepin' one hand on the reins whilst the other's pulling out a pistol. I'm doin' the same, as well as encouragin' my horse to put a spurt on. Still got a couple of miles to go before we reach the old gunpowder works, and a couple of miles is a long ride in a blizzard. We're galloping now, and the thud of my heart is almost as loud as the thud of hooves. Just hope this pace ain't gonna wear Blue out too soon.

Wouldn't have ridden out on any other horse on such a night as this. Heck, he's a beast that's got more sense and bravery than many a man I've encountered. Never needed to, and in truth never wanted to, use a whip or a spur on him. Even though it may be the fashion and practice in most parts, it ain't somethin' I believe in. Trainin' an animal to respond to encouragement and a gentle word is always gonna be more effective than usin' spurs and cruelty. Touch of my heels against his side is all he needs to follow my commands. We got an understandin' between us, built up over the years. Reckon he's picked up on the urgency of the situation as I can feel the anxiety in him; the muscles under his coat are real tense and his ears are laid back flat against his head. He's afraid sure enough, but he ain't gonna let me down.

Stella's horse, name of Blaze, is a fine and steady beast as well. She picked him out herself, and she's proved to have a real good eye in such matters, 'cause he's grown into one of the finest horses in Hattanville. It's taken her a deal of time and effort to get him this way though; when she bought him off of a frontiersman that was passin' through town a few years back, he was just a colt and wild as you like, but she saw the potential in him. Had a lot of folks tellin' her she was makin' one heck of a mistake spendin' money on such a flighty young creature. Told her too she'd never make a decent horse outta him, but that only made her more determined to prove 'em wrong. And prove 'em wrong she did, even though it cost her any number of bumps, bruises and even a coupla' broken bones from all the times that horse threw her off. Each time though, she got right back on him soon as she could.

Can't say I was happy about that side of it, especially when she suffered a real bad fall. Remember it was a boiling hot day in August and Blaze had gotten himself all worked up in the heat; Stella was tryin' to calm him when he bucked in a fit of temper and threw her clean off his back. I couldn't do anythin' to break her fall, and she landed hard against the stone gatepost of the paddock. It was down to nothin' but sheer luck that she didn't break her neck. As it was, the blow to her head knocked her out cold for nearly two days. Two of the longest days of my life. Ain't no word of a lie to say I've never been so glad to see someone open their eyes.

Of course, it weren't no surprise that the first thing Stella asked me after waking up was if the horse was all right. Then she asked if I was all right. That was when I knew _she_ was all right, and could answer her truthfully that I was. Didn't surprise me neither that it was only a few days before she was back in the saddle, even though me and the Doc had asked and advised her to wait a few more days. But she's made of strong stuff and didn't suffer no harm from doin' so, even if my nerves suffered plenty. Gotta admit, I could've cheerfully never laid eyes on that horse again after the incident, but Stella weren't mad at him. Said she understood him gettin' angry in the heat, and it weren't his fault. It also made her more determined to succeed with him, and now there's a real connection between that horse and his mistress. It's fair to say they understand each other pretty good. Almost as good as Stella and me understand each other.

Reckon that horse and I came to something' of an understandin' too, as he ain't never thrown her off since. But much as I'd like to believe it was due to the words of warning I whispered in his ears right before she got back on, letting him know exactly what would happen to him if he ever threw her again, I know it was all due to her skill and persistence. Stella don't ever give up on a thing, and that's another thing I love about her, though I ain't ever told her so. Reckon it's somethin' I oughtta do some time…

However, I gotta keep my mind focused on the task ahead of us. I'm gonna have to leave my musings and rememberings for another time, 'cause I gotta make sure both of us get back safe and sound, so we can create more times to remember together. I look ahead to Stella, and even though I'm wishin' she was safe back in Hattanville, I'm still mighty glad she and her skills and persistence are accompanyin' me. Reckon we're gonna need each other to succeed in this task…

"_Look out!_"

Stella yells and there's a flash of grey fur, a gleam of teeth, and a snarl as something leaps up at my saddle. Before I can react, there's a shot and the wolf falls away with a whimper.

"You all right, Mac?" She's wheeled her horse round so I can catch up.

Takes me a moment to catch my breath before I can answer, "Thanks to you. Should've noticed him sooner."

She shakes her head, "Happened in a second. Saw him just as he was leapin' up."

"You hit him?"

Another shake of her head, "Fired a warnin' shot. Seems to have scared 'em off for now. Couldn't bring myself to hit him, it ain't their fault they're actin' like this." She looks me over, "You sure you're all right? Don't think I wouldn't have killed him if you'd been in real danger."

That makes me smile, "No need to be apologising, Stella. Truth is, I'm glad you didn't. It ain't a thing I like to do, kill a beast needlessly, and I know you're the same. But thanks, could've been a real nasty situation."

I get a flash of her smile, "Mac, you don't need to thank me. I did what you would've done, helped where I could. I saw your mind was havin' a moment to itself." She pauses, then asks, "What were you thinkin' about?"

"Just rememberin' some of the hard times you had with Blaze when you were breakin' him in, as I'd been considering what a fine animal he is now. Reckon there ain't many horses who'd stand for being out on a night such as this."

Blaze gets a loving pat on his neck from Stella and I get a smile, "You got that right, Mac. He's one of a kind, and you were a fine help to me throughout his trainin'. I ain't forgotten the time you spent watchin' and advising', and makin' sure I was all right, and all the times you gave me words of encouragement just when I needed 'em most. If I ain't said it before, I was mighty grateful for all you did."

Despite the snow settling down the back of my neck and freezing my skin, I get the warmest feelin' inside me when she says that, and I smile back. Even though the cold has near frozen solid the muscles in my face. Still, guess smilin's as good a way as any to warm muscles up.

"It was nothin'." I mumble, 'cause with my face muscles stiffened up in the cold, it's sorta' hard to get words out.

At that, her smile becomes a beam. Don't seem to be any cold affectin' the muscles in her face, but I ain't complainin'. Blaze is pressed right up close to Blue now and it means our knees are kinda' bumpin' together, but I ain't gonna complain about that neither. After my near miss with the wolf, we're both extra vigilant. Even with the warning shot, we still ain't managed to shake 'em off yet; I can hear the sounds of the pack rushin' along beside us. They're keepin' a little way back, but the fear in both of us is that they're gonna start snappin' at the heels of our horses, and try to bring us all down. We press on, and slowly but surely, those wolves get bolder and closer.

And suddenly one's leapin' up beside me again. Only this time I'm ready and fire at it. I still ain't gonna hit one if I can help it, and fortunately a warnin' does the trick again. But another one appears, this time alongside Stella, and it takes two shots - one from my pistol, one from hers - before it falls back with a feral snarl. The lantern light shows us the crazed eyes of starving and desperate creatures, and much as I'm fearin' for our safety, I can't help but feel pity for them.

Both of us are shaken, and it's gettin' a desperate situation. Stella's white-faced as she shouts, "We gotta do somethin' here! You got any ideas?"

I have, but they ain't the best. However, I reckon we can come up with somethin' between us, "How about we throw 'em some of the provisions Mrs Hammerback packed up for us? Might distract 'em long enough for us to get clear of 'em."

"I don't know, Mac. Might work, but might also make 'em think we're a good bet for more…"

A swift and snarling form tries another leap, and we fire in unison. But bullets are only gonna hold out for so long. Well, maybe a little longer dependin' on how many of her pistols Stella's brought with her. And I'm willin' to bet it's a fair few… Not that I'd be bettin' for real on such a matter; though I've heard rumours Mr Daniel Messer has. He sure has a desire for livin' dangerously. Wouldn't like to bet on his chances if Stella ever finds out exactly what he's gambling on. He's takin' a high risk gamble…

"_Mac!_"

More shots from Stella. We're surrounded now by a swirling mass of wolves.

"Keep firin', Stell, I'll throw out what food we can spare!"

She's holdin' them off, but she ain't gonna be able to for long; fast as she fires, the more determined those wolves seem to get and we're gonna have to start shootin' to kill. Sentiment ain't somethin' we can afford out here. Cold, hard practicality's gotta be the thing. I'm tossin' out whatever food I can lay my hands on from the saddle bags. Seems a crime to be wastin' such good victuals as the ones Mrs Hammerback's given us, but reckon this is cause for doin' so, and we still got the supplies Stella's carryin' in her saddle bags.

All of a sudden, I'm aware that I'm caught in one of the most dangerous situations of my life; for long, dark seconds time seems to kinda' freeze around me as I'm seein' the snow whirlin', the slavering jaws of those wolves, and beside me, Stella with fear in her eyes that's a rare sight indeed. A sight that puts fear in me.

This _can't_ be where it all ends. It _can't_ be…

But with one last shot from Stella's pistol, one last packet of food from my saddle bag, we're clear of the wolves. They fall back at last howlin' and scramblin' for the food in the snow, tearin' and clawin' at each other. It's a terrible sight to behold and I'm tryin' to push out the picture in my mind of what else they could've been tearin' at. We've made it, even though it's taken a fair stock of our energy. Blue's snorting and gasping and even though I can't see his face, I know his eyes are gonna be wild and his nostrils flarin'. Blaze is the same, and I reckon Stella and me ain't feelin' much calmer. Neither of us have got breath left for any talkin' until we've ridden on a good distance and left the cries of the wolves far behind. There's still a faint wail on the wind though that could be from them or the blizzard. Either way, it's a sound that chills my blood.

The sight of the old gunpowder works loomin' up in front of us don't bring much comfort neither. It's a stark heap of buildings that looks even bleaker in the snow and I'm sensin' unease from both our horses as we ride up to the main building and stop. Blue, who's normally the steadiest of beasts, is dancin' about and tossing his head, and I'm remembering the talk of ghosts from the man who died. If I were someone with an overactive imagination, I'd be imaginin' all sorts of ghostly things now. The wind's wailing and whining and the snow's fallin so thick it plays tricks on your eyes, almost makes you see shapes kinda' swirlin' about. Leastways, that's what I'd say if I was a fanciful man. Which I ain't.

Stella ain't a fanciful woman neither, but even she seems a little spooked, and we're stayin' close together. The horses trot forward slowly into the courtyard of the old works, and we shine our lanterns out in front of us. Ain't a thing to be seen other than those old brick and timber buildings, the snow, and lantern-cast shadows.

"Reckon we tie up the horses here, Mac?" Stella asks, pointing out a rail that seems it was set up for the purpose.

"Reckon so." I answer and we both dismount and secure them fast, not that there's any danger of either beast boltin'. But out here, I don't want to take no chances.

With lanterns held fast in our hands, we make our way towards the biggest building. It's a sturdy lookin' structure, outhouses either side of it, and a waterwheel at the side. Course, the water that would've usually turned it's got a skin of ice over the top and it ain't movin'. Can't see nothin' movin' in truth and it's a real eerie feelin'. Snow's kinda' muffled everythin', and I could even imagine the rest of the world has disappeared. It ain't a good thing to imagine.

Lookin' round, we can't see no trace of anyone havin' been here, but then, the snow's good at coverin' up dark deeds. There might be footprints covered over and we wouldn't know. I'm relyin' on my senses as much as I can, and they're tellin' me somethin' ain't entirely right here, but just what that is, I don't know.

Once we're inside and out of the snow, we hold up our lanterns. It's a big, open space, empty of everythin' but a mess of rubble in the middle of the room, and wood heaped up against the walls. Ain't no immediate signs of anythin' untoward, but I ain't letting down my guard.

"Where d'you want to start lookin'?" Stella asks, swingin' her lantern. The light's castin' all kinds of uncanny shapes. Shapes and shadows that sorta' creep out of the corners and slide along the walls, "You want to try pokin' about in here first?"

"Sure." I reply, "How about you look over that side of the room, and I'll try over here?"

She grins at me, "Guess I ain't the only one who's good at thinkin' up plans, huh?"

"You ain't…" I take a step forward, and hear a creakin' sound underfoot. Next thing I know, there's an exclamation from Stella, and she's yanked me backwards, almost pulling me off my feet.

There's a sorta' sighin' sound and the floorboards I were standin' on not a second before suddenly ain't there. Instead, there's a gapin' black hole. Stella don't let go of my arm, and both of us are breathin' heavily, too shocked to move.

"You all right?" She asks eventually, and I catch the slightest tremble in her voice.

"Thanks to you again. How did you know?"

She shakes her head, "Don't know, instinct I guess."

"Then I'm mighty glad of your instincts."

For a few more moments, we just stand there, happy to be safe and holdin' onto each other.

Then Stella brushes off my coat, "Let's get huntin' for these deeds." She lays her hand on my cheek for a moment; her fingers tingle against my skin and her eyes are smilin' in mine, "Sooner we do that, sooner we can be back home and in front of the fire."

"I'm thinkin' that's the best plan of all." I smile, and we keep our hands joined this time as we make our way over to the far wall to start lookin' for any sign of those deeds.

"Hey, Mac. Reckon there might be somethin' here?" Stella lets go of my hand and steps over to a heap of wood.

But then _my_ instinct's suddenly alert. I hear a groanin' sound and a few splinters of wood fall on me. I look up, and see that one of the big wooden beams above us is shifting. And even as I stare open mouthed, it starts tearin' away from the ceiling.

It's fallin'.

It's fallin' and Stella's right beneath it…

I'm leapin' forward. Got no time to warn her, I gotta act. I grab her and try and drag her out the way…

But I've left it too late.

There's a roaring sound and the beam comes crashin' down, and Stella's still in my arms. I hear her scream as an almighty weight hits me, the floor breaks away beneath us and we're fallin' and fallin'...

And then there's only silence and darkness.

**Oh dear… a slight cliff-hanger XD Please, please review and tell me what you think, even if you didn't like it. But I hope you did! 'Twelve Days' by Lily and Blue has also finally been updated! Thanks, Lily x**


	8. Lonely Are The Brave

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Notes**** Chapter 8; have our two heroes survived? Read on to find out…**

**Thank you very much for all reviews, please continue! They're a great help with writing, and I really appreciate knowing what you think. Thanks for alerts and favourites; to _afrozenheart412_ for extra thoughts; _iluvCSI4ever_ for discussion; and _Forest Angel _for discussion and reading.**

Once Upon A Time in the Old West

Chapter 8: Lonely Are The Brave

Stella:

_Cold_… _So cold_…

Can't feel nothin' but cold…

Somethin's wrong… What happened? _Somethin'_ must've happened… Gotta be some explanation for me lyin' here in the freezin' cold… Feels like my arms and legs have turned to ice… That ain't good. Don't rightly know if I can move 'em…

Can't see nothin' either. It's dark… Too dark… But guess that might be 'cause my eyes are closed… Best try openin' 'em… Yeah, reckon that might be a good idea…

Huh, didn't do much good. Still can't see nothin' but the dark… Sure it weren't this dark before… before whatever happened. No, no, it was _light_… there was light 'cause I had a lantern! I was holdin' one and… and someone else was. Should be someone else here with me. They had a lantern too…

So cold… Feels like all my thoughts have kinda' frozen up… Why's it so cold? I gotta think… Snow! There was snow, lots of it, a blizzard... We were ridin' through a blizzard, me and… and the other person… I gotta remember who… Maybe I oughtta try and move, warm myself up a bit, get my memory warmed up too.

So I'll try movin', seems a good plan, maybe that'll help me get the feelin' back in my arms and legs… But there's somethin' sorta' heavy lyin' on top of me. Hell, _this_ sure ain't good. Can't move nor see properly. And still can't seem to remember properly neither…

Know one thing for sure, I got an outsize in headaches. There's a bangin' goin' on inside my head like dynamite goin' off. Dynamite… Now that's somethin' I know I got a fair amount of knowledge on… Know it makes a heck of a noise when it blows… Seem to remember somethin' else makin' a loud noise just before it all went black. Maybe someone set explosives off? Don't know who'd be doin' that sorta' thing though…

This pain in my head ain't improvin' any. Maybe I better lie still for a moment, close my eyes again, see if that helps… Nope. That ain't helpin' much. Better open 'em again. Guess I'm gonna have to put up with it. Gotta try and move. Reckon that's important. Too cold to be lyin' here. Too cold and wet, 'cause somethin's drippin' on me now. Water... There's water drippin' on me. Can feel it underneath me too. Ugh. Cold water. Freezin' cold. This ain't good at all… Somethin's up here… Somethin' happened… Somethin' bad…

Wish I could get rid of this headache, seems to have muddled all my thinkin' up… Come on, Stella. Get yourself straightened out here. Let's consider all this… So I'm lyin' somewhere dark, somewhere cold, and I got water drippin' onto me and around me… Got a poundin' in my head too that still ain't gettin' any better. Reckon I ain't had this kinda' headache since the last time Blaze threw me off, and my head made the acquaintance of a gatepost. Not that I recall much about that neither… remember sorta' flyin' through the air, then next thing I knew, Mac was leanin' over me lookin' more worried than…

Oh! _Mac! _It was Mac who had a hold of the other lantern! _Mac_ was with me…

So where is he now? He should be here! What's happened to him? Reckon that water drippin' on me's clearin' my head, 'cause I'm rememberin' it _all_ now… We were in a room… at the gunpowder works… lookin' for the deeds to Hattanville… I was callin' Mac to come look at somethin', then he grabbed a hold of me and was yellin'… Then there was a noise, somethin' fallin' down, and I might've screamed, but only 'cause of the shock, and then the floorboards must've given way and we were fallin…

Don't remember any more after that, 'cept darkness and cold. Guess I hit my head, 'cause me and consciousness must've parted company for a short while. Good thing I got a hard head, don't reckon it's done me much damage… But Mac! I gotta find him! If I'm here then Mac's _gotta_ be here somewhere too. Just hope he ain't hurt…

"_Mac! _Mac, where are you?"

Damn, that didn't come out loud as I'd hoped. Got all kinds of dust in my throat, makin' me cough. Shoutin' whilst lyin' down don't help much neither. I oughtta be gettin' up…

"Mac! Can you hear me?"

Still no answer. This is bad, real bad. If he ain't answerin', he's gotta be hurt. And I can't have that. Too many times he's gotten himself hurt tryin' to protect me and others. And each time, no matter how much yellin' I do, he still gets that real stubborn look in his face that tells me he ain't gonna hesitate to stand in harm's way the next time. It's a thing I love about him, but sometimes it makes me real mad, 'cause I don't want him thinkin' he's gotta be protectin' me. Last thing I need's that; I ain't the kind of woman that needs a man to be protectin' her, 'cause I can protect _myself_… Trouble is, I reckon Mac knows that, he just don't seem to be able to help himself. But I don't want him or anyone else thinkin' I can't look after myself.

Don't reckon they do though. Reckon I made my reputation strong enough in town so folks know Stella Bonasera ain't a woman who can't manage on her own. Reckon Mac and I got an understandin' about that too. Guess I gotta allow him times now and again to show he cares, but I don't want him showin' it in ways that end up with him gettin' hurt…

"_Mac! _Mac, are you here?"

He still ain't answerin'. _Heck… _I gotta find him… Managed to sit myself up and I got my hands free; seems to be all kinds of pieces of wood and plaster lyin' all over me, from what I can feel. Reckon my eyes are adjustin' a little to the dark now, can make out shapes. Real jumbled shapes they are; I'm guessin' both the ceilin' and the floor collapsed, and we came tumblin' down with it. Still can't make out any sign of Mac though… I'm feelin' about with my hands, trying to clear all the debris that's lyin' on top of me…

Seems there's a real heavy piece of wood across my legs, pinnin' me down… can't shift it with my hands, but maybe if I try and sorta' wriggle out from underneath… Ain't easy though; I'm still freezin' cold, and my legs don't seem to want to work as they should… gotta make 'em though. I ain't gonna be lyin' here waitin' for someone to rescue me. I'm gettin' myself and Mac outta here, if he needs me to. Which, judgin' by the fact he ain't answered me yet, seems likely. Don and the others ain't gonna be knowin' anything's up, so it's gotta be down to me. And it ain't fair they go puttin' themselves at risk neither; me and Mac made the decision to come out here, so guess we're gonna have to get ourselves outta this mess…

There! I'm free, got my legs out, just need to try and get some feelin' back in 'em, my arms too. Guess I was real lucky that piece of wood weren't heavier, otherwise I don't like to think what might've happened… My legs still feel kinda' numb, but least I can move 'em again. Not that I can move very far. I'm still kinda' gropin' about in the dark here… Wonder if either of our lanterns are about anywhere? Reckon that might be too much to hope for, they're probably smashed to smithereens, but they sure would help me findin' Mac…

"Mac! Please, if you can hear me, answer me… _Mac!_" It's makin' me cough, all this shoutin', but I don't care. I'm gettin' frantic now. I gotta find him, I gotta know he's all right…

"Mac! Come on, Mac, I ain't gonna be losin' my voice shoutin' with you not answerin'! _Mac!_"

Can't hear nothin'. Nothin' but the sound of my own heart, and it feels like my pulse is racin' round my body faster than those wolves were runnin' alongside us… Guess they're still out there somewhere, maybe waitin' for us, maybe they're gonna come lookin' for us… _No_, gotta stop thinkin' thoughts like that! But I got a shiver through me rememberin' the way they'd been driven so crazed with hunger; we were real lucky gettin' outta that situation. Coulda' gone either way at one point, don't know how much longer we coulda' held 'em off for. Not that I was gonna run outta bullets. Or pistols.

Always make sure I carry plenty of pistols around with me. Mac and Don have both sorta' teased me about that before now, askin' how many I got and why I need to be carryin' so many. Truth is, you never know when you're gonna need one, and a girl's gotta be prepared for any situation out here in the West, even in a civilised town such as ours. As the events of the summer proved with Gerrard and his gang, a girl can never have too many pistols. Our escape then weren't down to luck, it was down to the skill and bravery of folk. And plenty of pistols.

It don't miss my ears or eyes neither that Mr Daniel Messer has a more than mild curiosity about the matter, and number, of my pistols. Seen him lookin' kinda' speculatively at me at times. Seems certain other folk in town have an interest too, and if they ain't got some kind of a bet goin' on, then my name ain't Stella Bonasera. Reckon Mr Messer thinks I don't know anythin' about his little gamblin' game. But he'd be wrong in thinkin' that, 'cause there ain't a lot that goes on in this town I don't know about.

Guess that's one of the advantages of runnin' the Saloon. Get all kinds of folks comin' in there, and get all kinds of secrets spilled too, along with the liquor. Specially on a Friday night when the men of the town make their escape from work and wives, as they put it. Course, the truth is, their wives also get their escape from husbands… But I ain't one to be judgin'. Part of the duty of a Saloon owner's providin' a listenin' ear to folk, so I get to hear most of what's goin' on in Hattanville, and if there's secret's let out that shouldn't be, well, I ain't one for gossipin' neither… Even though there's some mighty interestin' things I get to hear sometimes, includin' who's bettin' on who, and what they're bettin' on. However, I ain't gonna say anythin' to Mr Messer till the time's right. Maybe I'll just be droppin' a few hints, get him a little worried…

Seem to remember hearin' some Latin words once, somethin' like _in vino veritas_, which I took as meanin' when folks, usually men, get to drinkin' too much, they get to talkin' too much. It's fair astonishin' what a man will tell you after a few too many glasses of spirits. Most of which I turn a deaf ear to, it's gotta be said, 'specially when they get to talkin' about needin' the love of a good woman. Heck, if I had a dollar for every proposal of marriage I've gotten after too many glasses of spirits down a man's throat, I'd be a wealthy woman. And a much married one too if they'd all got their wishes. Truth is, there ain't a one of 'em I'd even consider marryin', 'cause I got my heart elsewhere, and I'm still waitin' for the proposal from the one man I _would_ be sayin' yes to. Reckon if he keeps me waitin' too much longer though, I might have to do the askin' myself. Don't bother me that it ain't the traditional thing. Always been my belief that a woman oughtta be able to ask for what she wants...

But before I can even be thinkin' 'bout that, I gotta get him and me outta here, and I gotta find him first! Gettin' too distracted here with musings…

"_Mac!_ Answer me!"

Gotta keep movin' and searchin'. Can't stand entirely upright though, as there's pieces of wood and all kinds hangin' above me, and I don't wanna dislodge 'em in case it brings it all tumblin' down on us. Guess I can manage crawlin' along on my hands and knees, even though it ain't the best thing, and it's botherin' me that there's all this icy cold water that I'm crawlin' through. I'm wonderin' where it's all comin' from, and why it seems to be increasin'. I'm startin' to shiver too, but that's the least of my worries, 'cause Mac _still_ ain't answerin'…

"Mac, please! Where are you? _Mac!_"

Wait… Did I hear somethin' then? I've stopped dead, coulda' sworn I heard a sorta' groanin' sound… "Mac? Mac Taylor? Can you hear me?"

I'm hearin' _somethin'. _Hope it ain't more ceilin' about to drop on us. That's the last thing we need… Ow! Caught my hand on somethin' sharp, must be glass. Reckon it is… I'm feelin' round, and it's broken bits of one of our lanterns. Should've guessed I couldn't have been so lucky for it to have survived… But if one of 'em's around, maybe the other one is too, and maybe the other one ain't broken…

Got it! And seems to be intact! Seems we got a bit of luck. Now, if can get a hold of the tinder box I had with me… got it somewhere in my skirt… yeah, still there, hope it ain't gotten too wet…

More sounds, definitely sounds like _someone_. And there's only one someone I need it to be…

"Mac, I'm comin'! Hang on! Soon as I get this lantern lit up, I'm comin'!"

Damn tinderbox! Damn fingers bein' too cold and stiff! I'm fumblin' and I ain't got time for that… Strikin' sparks sure ain't the easiest thing to do in the dark and wet… But just 'cause a thing ain't easy, don't mean I'm gonna give up on it… Done it! I got a spark, gotta get that lantern lit again… I'm keepin' it steady, can't let it go out… can't have that…

Damn! This ain't fair! How's a girl to succeed in lightin' a lantern when she's got water drippin' down on her? But that's defeatist talk, and that ain't my style, I gotta try again… Gotta keep tryin' till I succeed. Got it! Finally, I got that lantern lit and can see where I am, and where Mac is…

"Mac! Oh, Mac! Stay still, hold on, I'm comin' to you…"

Heck, this is worse than I thought! He's only a few yards from me, but I got a whole mess of wood and rubble in between us, and that beam that's come down's gotten Mac trapped underneath. He's not lookin' good; can see he's white as snow and his eyes are shut fast… I'm scramblin' over fast as I can, don't give a damn if my skirt's gettin' torn and my hands along with it. That don't matter one bit. _Mac_ matters, I gotta get to him…

"Mac! Mac, it's Stella! Wake up!"

Oh, this is real bad. I'm beside him now, shinin' the lantern onto him, and it's showin' me just how pale he looks; he ain't got a scrap of colour in his face, and his eyes are tight closed, "Mac, please wake up!" Got my hand on his cheek, cold as it is, 'cause I gotta let him know I'm here with him…

"Mac, talk to me, come on, you gotta wake up…" Might be the light flickerin', but reckon his eyes are startin' to open… "That's it, Mac. You gotta open those eyes, come on…" They're definitely openin', that's gotta be a good sign. Even if I can see there's a gash in his chest and it's bleedin' pretty bad. Gotta try and fix that. Reckon tearin' a piece off of my skirt'll help with that. Got a cut on his forehead too, reckon he must've got hit real hard, must've knocked him out. But he's comin' round, his eyes are openin' for sure now…

"S-Stella?"

I'm strokin' his cheek, but it ain't just my hand that's cold, can't feel no warmth in his skin neither, "Yeah Mac, it's me. You're gonna be all right, you hear me?" 'Cause he _is_ gonna be all right. I know he is. I'm gonna make sure as hell about that. Whatever it takes.

"Stell… what… what happened?" His voice is faint, can't hardly hear it.

"Don't try talkin' too much, Mac." I'm squeezin' his fingers now, gotta try and warm them, they feel colder than mine. So cold…

"I'm gonna get you outta here! Reckon the ceilin' came down, and 'cause those old floorboards were rotten, we must've fallen through…"

He blinks, "We… we fell?" Guess he don't remember…

"Yeah, we fell, but don't you be worryin' 'cause I ain't hurt. Reckon you pullin' me outta the way of that beam helped… No, I ain't gonna say any more about that right now, that's gonna wait till we're both outta here. I'll say this for now though, Mac; I'm mighty grateful to you for savin' me, but I'm mad as hell with you for gettin' hurt!"

Reckon there's a smile in his eyes for a moment, "S-sorry 'bout that, but… but couldn't have you killed. That'd never do…"

"And I can't be havin' _you_ killed neither, Mac!"

His eyes are closin' again, "I ain't killed…"

"Good, 'cause I ain't gonna let you be killed, you hear?" I give his shoulders a gentle shake, "We're gettin' outta here in one piece, both of us! Soon as I can get you free…"

He don't answer me straight away, so I move my hand onto his chest, just above his heart. Gotta reassure myself, gotta make sure I can feel his heart's still beatin'. It's real faint, but it's beatin'. Reckon it warms me up feelin' it, so's I can help warm him up too, "You hearin' me, Mac?" I say, nice and loud.

"Yeah… I hear you…" Still got his eyes closed, but he's still with me.

"Good, that's good. Now listen up, this ain't gonna be easy, 'cause you got a whole mess of wood and such on top of you, but somehow, I'm gonna get you out and back to town, you got that?"

"H-how you gonna do that?" His eyes have opened up a crack again, and he's managed to move his head, but I don't want him movin' too much, so I press down, gently though, on his chest, keepin' him still.

"Don't you be worryin' about nothin' Mac, 'cept keepin' with me. I'm the one doin' the figurin' out here… Now, I'm gonna hang this lantern up here so's we can both see each other, then I'm gonna see what I can do about movin' this piece of wood that's gotten you stuck."

Huh, this ain't gonna be as easy as said though… I've managed to hang the lantern up so I got both hands free, and so I can see Mac and what I gotta do. More I look though, more I see I'm facin' a _big_ problem. That beam's gone and fallen real awkwardly, and it's kinda' proppin' up a big ol' piece of plaster. Reckon if I go movin it too much, it's gonna bring it all down, and we'll be in a worse fix than we already are…

Maybe if I try shiftin' it a little… Try pullin' Mac gently as I can… No, it ain't workin'… Beam's too heavy… Everything's gonna come down… Damn. _Damn! _I can't do it!

"S-Stella?"

I've sunk to the ground, hands over my face… What am I gonna do? I gotta get Mac out! Can't fail on this, I _can't_…

Well, guess if it ain't gonna work the way I was plannin', then I gotta think of another plan…

I pull myself to my feet again. Gotta make sure Mac's okay and not worryin', so I manage a smile for him…

"It's all right, Mac. Nothin' to worry about. Just gotta do a bit more figurin' out. You'll be outta here soon, I promise…"

But as I'm smilin' at him and strokin' his cheek with my fingertips, the darkness beyond the lantern light and the cold beyond the meetin' of our skin is creepin' inside me, and I'm fillin' up with an icy cold fear. I've made him a promise though, and whatever happens, I'm gonna keep that promise. I'm gonna get him outta here and safe back home. Whatever it takes…

**Hope you liked that! Please, please review and boost my writing ego! Reviews still accepted for last chapter also :D 'Twelve Days' now updated too! Thanks, Lily x**


	9. Lone Star

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Notes**** Chapter 9; Will drastic measures have to be taken for our two heroes to be saved…?**

**Thank you very much for all reviews, please continue! They're a great help with writing, and I really appreciate knowing what you think of this story. Thanks for alerts and favourites; to _Miss Poisonous _for reassurances; to _afrozenheart412_ and _chrysalis escapist_ for extra thoughts; to _Blue Shadowdancer_ for reading & discussions; and _iluvCSI4ever_ for reading.**

Once Upon A Time in the Old West

Chapter 9: Lone Star

Stella:

The lantern light's flickerin', but I got determination burnin' strong inside. Reckon it's gonna take some good hard thinkin' to solve our current predicament, however, I ain't one to shy away from a challenge, and bein' in a predicament only makes me more determined to get out of it.

So I give Mac's hand another squeeze, "You know I'm real good at figurin' things out. Won't take me no time at all to think of somethin'…"

He smiles, and that's a grand sight indeed. Smilin' ain't somethin' Mac Taylor's too practised at, so it's welcome all the more. Can fairly say it makes my heart lift, and sends away some o' that dark and cold I had creepin' into me.

"Got no… no doubt but you will, Stella." He says, and that makes my heart lift even more. I'm gonna do this, for both of us. 'Cause if nothin' else, I need to keep seein' that smile on his face. It's a sight I won't ever get tired of.

I sit down beside him, not lettin' go of his hand, and start gettin' my thoughts in order. Guess some people might be thinkin' of waitin' the problem out till help arrives. However, that ain't my style. Could be waitin' any number of hours here in the dark and cold, and Mac ain't got that long. Besides, I ain't missed that water creepin' up on us. Strikes me suddenly then what it is, and it ain't a happy realisation; the pool that feeds the waterwheel, that's gotta be where it's from. Might've been frozen on top, but underneath's gonna be one heck of a large amount of water to be leakin' in. Ice cold water…

Can't think about that though. Gotta keep thinkin' how to get out. Much as I hate to admit it, I know can't get Mac out by myself; I gotta be realistic.

We're gonna need help…

And we can't wait for help to come to us…

Which means I gotta go and _get_ help!

I'm jumpin up, "Figured it out, Mac! I got a plan…"

He's gonna find objections, but I'll override 'em.

"W-what kind of a plan?" He's frownin' already.

"A real good one." I say, "You're gonna be fine and dandy, 'cause I know exactly what to do!"

"You ain't in a hurry to… to tell me."

Darn that way he's got of figurin' things out before I'm ready for him to do so… Well, can't be helped, I gotta tell him, and truth is, he ain't got much choice in the matter.

I take a deep breath, and it all sorta' comes out in a rush, "I'm gonna climb up outta here and ride back to town and get help and ride back here and get you out…"

Mac sure has a strong grip. Reckon my fingers might be near enough crushed. Don't mind though, show's he's got strength left.

"You ain't takin' that risk, Stella!" He's mustered a real strong voice too, "Can't… can't have you doin' that! We had a dangerous enough ride comin' here, and there were two of us…"

He breaks off and coughs, so I take the opportunity to take hold of his shoulders, gentle as I can, "I know it ain't gonna be a stroll down Main Street, but I got my pistols and I got Blaze, plus I still got the packets of food in my saddle bags, should I need 'em. I ain't gonna get into any trouble. Reckon we saw to those wolves good and proper, they ain't gonna be botherin' me…"

Even as I'm sayin' that, I'm tryin' to reassure myself it's true. Sure could do without any more encounters like we had on our way. I'm shudderin'… But it's just 'cause I'm cold. Nothin' else….

Huh, that's another thing, thinkin' on. Reckon Mac's gonna be gettin' cold lyin' here. Gotta do somethin' about that.

"Here, you're gonna need this." I got a cloak on over my coat, so reckon I can spare the coat. Mac's gonna protest, but I'm takin' it off and arrangin' it careful as I can around him, "Don't argue with me, 'cause I'm only gonna close my ears to it. Real good at bein' deaf when I need to."

"Stella, you…"

"Can't hear you, sorry." Put my hands up to my ears, even though I'm feelin' real unkind, but this is the only way.

Mac's got a real exasperated look on his face, so I try and smooth it away by placin' my hand on his cheek. Use somethin' of a softer voice too when I say, "Way I see it, you're in a far worse position here than me goin' out there. If both of us stay here, neither of us is gonna be safe. This is the only way."

"Gotta b-be another…"

I shake my head, "Ain't no other way. And I'm sorry to say this, Mac, but there ain't a lot you can do to stop me. This is the only way we're both gonna get outta here. You hear me?"

"I hear you, but…"

"Ain't hearin' any ifs and buts from you."

Even though his voice is raspy, and his eyes are closin' again, he's still with me, "Guess I ain't got… got much choice in the matter."

"No you ain't!"

Don't meant to be cruel, but I gotta find some way of keepin' him buoyed up and talkin', keepin' him fightin'. 'Cause if he's got the strength to argue, then he's got the strength to survive… 'Cause he _is_ gonna survive! I ain't even gonna start thinkin' about what I'd do…. No. _No,_ I _ain't_ gonna think that.

I'm kneelin' beside him now, holdin' his face in my hands, brushing his cheekbones with my thumbs. "You listen to me good. I know how to keep myself safe out there, even on my own. I'm plenty capable, and you know Blaze is a horse to be trusted. Me and him have been through some times together, but I trust him to keep me safe. Exactly the same as I'd trust you, and exactly the same as I know you trust _me_…"

"Trust you with my… my life, Stella."

Ain't gonna let him see me cry... 'Cause I _ain't_ cryin'. Ain't time for it, and it does no good. So I give my eyes a quick wipe and smooth his hair down for him, "Good, that… that's good to know, 'cause I trust you with mine too, Mac. So this is what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna climb up outta here, 'cause I reckon I can do that if I'm real careful and take it slow, then I'm gonna make sure Blue's okay, get back up on Blaze, and ride back to town…"

I'm strokin' his cheek all the while I'm tellin' him this. His skin's cold, oh it's so cold…

"You… you gotta be careful. Can't let anythin' happen…"

"Aint' gonna let anythin' happen to me. Promise. I'm a big girl and can take care of myself, even out in a blizzard. Anyway, it ain't so far to town, Blaze'll have had time to rest up some, he'll get me there in no time. Then I'll be back here even quicker."

A frown's wrinklin' his forehead, and I can see he still ain't happy, so I give his hand a squeeze, "I'm the one who's good at makin' plans, ain't that right?"

"Don't… don't rightly know what I'd do without you to make plans, Stella…" Reckon there's a ghost of a smile on his face…

No! That ain't the right thing to be thinkin' at all! Mac's livin' and breathin' and he's gonna _stay_ that way for a good while longer, 'specially if I've got anythin' to do with it. We got too many things we still got to do. Too many things to be doin' together, too many things not yet said or asked, that I'm gonna make sure _will _be said and asked.

So I gotta get goin' to make sure of our future times together…

"I'm gonna leave the lantern here for you, Mac, 'cause I don't want you lyin' here in the dark, that ain't a pleasant thing for anyone, reckon I'll be able to see by moonlight out there, and Blaze'll be a real help in rememberin' the way… No, don't you start protestin', you ain't gonna be able to change my mind. The lantern stays, got plenty of candle left to keep it goin' till I get back with folks."

"H-how you gonna see to get outta here?"

Now he's askin' a good question, but I know the answer, "I got enough light to see, I'll hang the lantern a little higher…" My word's true to my action, and I lift it, careful as I can, "There. All done. Best get myself goin' so's you ain't here any longer than you have to be."

I'm lookin' at all that jumble of wood I gotta climb up, and suddenly I'm feelin' a fair bit daunted. Sure is a long way up, and a long way back down if I fall…

I ain't gonna fall. That's all there is to it.

I bend down to give Mac a few last words of encouragement, and a kiss on his cheek to give him a little warmth back, "You hang on there, Sheriff Taylor." I'm clutchin' at his fingers now, and my voice has almost died to a whisper, "Don't be goin' anywhere I can't find or follow you…"

No, I ain't gonna be whisperin', I'm gonna say this loud to him… "I'll be back here real soon, and gettin' you out!"

I _will_. I know I will. There ain't no alternative. 'Cause I love this man in front of me, and I ain't gonna let him go.

"Ain't goin' anywhere, Stella." He smiles at me. Then the frown comes back, and I can see pain in his eyes, and that hurts me, 'cause there ain't nothin' I can do to stop it. Even though I'd take it all on myself if I could…

But I'm wastin' time, Mac's time. I gotta go; much as a part of me wants to stay with him, and can't almost bear the thought of leavin' him alone, I know that ain't a course of action that'll do us any good.

So I take a deep breath and with a final touch of his hand, I'm hitchin' my skirts up ready to climb out. May not be the most ladylike thing to be doin', but I don't care, gotta think practically here…

"Stella?"

I'm not gonna believe his voice is soundin' fainter, because it _ain't._

"Yeah, Mac?" Got one hand on a piece of wood, the other holdin' my skirts.

"Before you… you go, need to… to tell you somethin'."

I'm shakin' my head as he's sayin' that, 'cause I got an idea of what he's about to say, and I'm gonna hold him to tellin' me when I get back here and get him out, "No, save your strength. Don't be doin' no more talkin', you hear? I got an inklin' what you're gonna say, and don't be thinking' you gotta tell me now, 'cause you don't. This ain't your last chance, you can tell me when you're safe outta here. And that's my last word on the matter!"

With that, I put my foot onto the heap of rubble, and look up again. Then wish I hadn't… Sure is one hell of a long way up. Seems even further than when I last looked. Better take in another deep breath…

I'm ready, I gotta go. I'll keep talkin' to Mac as I'm climbin' up, reckon it'll help me. Could almost say we been lucky with the way all this wood and rubble's fallen, as it gives me somethin' to climb on. Don't know how steady it is though. Guess I'll just have to find out… There, got one foot up, now the other, and I'm off the ground. Gotta keep takin' it real slow and steady. It's all gonna be good and fine…

"I'm gettin' there!" Daren't look down, don't want to be gettin' any dizzier. That'd never do. Not gonna be a faintin' female.

Another deep breath, and I'm stretchin' my hand up, catchin' hold of another spar of wood that's stickin' out. Seems to be holdin' my weight, for now, and I'm a step higher up…

"Stella!"

Only takes a second for me to look down and see what I'm standin' on's slippin'… Mac's warnin's come just in time as I throw myself forward onto another muddle of stuff that wobbles real precariously…

I hold my breath.

Keep myself as still as possible to let it settle…

Still holdin' my breath…

Then it settles. Only took seconds, but they were seconds that felt like a whole eternity… Phew. Can feel my heart bangin' against my ribs and I gotta take a moment to breathe before I keep goin'.

"I'm all right, Mac!" I yell, hopin' my voice has got a cheerful ring to it, even though I'm feelin' almost as scared as a rock rabbit facin' a mountain lion, "Thanks for the warnin'!"

"Be… be careful!" His voice floats up to me, and I can't stop a wry kinda' smile. Careful, huh? Reckon we coulda' both been a fair bit more careful about comin' here in the first place. However, what's done is done, and I'm bein' as careful as I can. Reckon it ain't so far to go now…

I'm tryin' my darnedest to ignore the groanin' noises all this wood and such is makin'; gotta block my ears to it and carry on… Need to stay real focused on what I'm doin. Gotta keep thinkin' about Mac. Gotta think of all the situations I been in that've been worse than this. Sure there's gotta be plenty…

Guess they've escaped me for the moment though. Where's the memory of a perilous situation when a girl needs one to distract her, huh?

I risk another look down before settin' my foot on the next bit of wood I can see that don't look too rickety. Mac's still lookin' up at me, still got his eyes open, and I manage a smile which I hope he can see.

"Nearly at the top! Not far…"

Damn. Shouldn't have looked down… Now I'm feelin' real dizzy, this ain't good… Gotta keep goin… Gotta hold on…

Another few deep breaths and I reckon I'm all right… Even though things are kinda' spinnin' around me… Keep lookin' up. Gotta keep lookin' up…

Luckily, I find a few more hand and foot holds without too much difficulty, and a few more wobbles later and I'm seein' a beautiful sight; the floor me and Mac came fallin' through, with a fair portion of it still intact. Reckon if I can just grab a hold of that piece of floorboard which ain't too far from my hand. Gotta stretch for it a little way…

Before I can stop myself, I'm slippin' and my feet are slidin' away from me…

I make a lunge for the piece of floorboard I was tryin' for, and hold on with all my might…

Now here's a problem; I'm hangin' by one hand onto a piece of wood that's so rotten, it's more holes than wood; my feet are danglin' into nothin'; and I can't look down 'cause I know that there's a whole heap o' nothin' then a mighty hard landin' if I fall…

I _ain't_ gonna fall… Got two hands here so I'm grabbin' hold of another bit of wood… It's outta reach, but not by too much… If I can just…

Got it!

This is all fine and good, got two hands holdin' onto somethin' now, all I need to do is _keep_ them holdin' on till I can figure a way of gettin' the rest of me onto somethin' more solid than thin air…

I'm draggin' myself onto that floor. Got my chest and stomach up, now if I can kinda' wriggle a bit more… Little bit more…

Made it.

Might need a few short moments lyin' here on my front to catch my breath again before it flies away from me. They sure were a _long_ few moments hangin' there… Gotta confess, this ain't an activity I ever want to do again…

Better call to Mac, let him know I'm all right, 'cause he'll only be worryin', "Mac? You hear me?" I shift myself round, still lyin' on my front, and look down. Don't wanna risk standin' up too soon in case those floorboards ain't gonna hold me. And don't know if I quite got enough breath yet to hold me up. Sure is a mighty great hole below me, and a mighty long way we fell. Gotta thank my lucky stars we weren't killed…

Mac ain't answerin' me.

I ain't gonna panic... Explanations's plain and simple, I didn't shout loud enough, and he's a long way down…

"Mac? You gonna answer me?"

Still silence.

My heart's thumpin' and my fingers are grippin' the edge of the floor, "_Mac! _Answer me! I did enough shoutin' earlier, don't make me have to do any more!"

I'm hangin' right over, peerin' down, and I can see he's got his eyes closed again…

"_Mac Taylor!_" Gonna make myself hoarse, but I don't care. All I care about's him answerin'…

After what seems an age, I hear at last all I wanted to hear, when a whisper floats up to me, "S-Stella?"

I start half laughin' half cryin', "Yeah, who else is it gonna be? I'm at the top, so in a moment I'm gonna be leavin you. But not for long, you hear? You'll hardly know I've been gone, then we'll be back to get you outta there!"

"Take care…"

I hang onto his words as I get myself standin' up and outta there. Got the memory of his face burnin' in my mind as I face the blizzard and cold outside.

Blue and Blaze are both waitin' patiently, so I give Blue a pat and tell him he's gonna see his master real soon, then I climb up onto Blaze and tell him where we're gonna go. I set my face towards Hattanville and don't look back. Gotta keep ridin', no stoppin'. For Mac. I'm soon feelin' the lack of my coat, so I pull my cloak round me tighter, but I got a chill in my heart that any number of cloaks ain't gonna warm.

_I've left Mac behind…_

But I gotta keep goin', for him.

Don't take long before I hear those wolves howlin' in the not so far distance. My hand goes straight to my nearest pistol; get it restin' on the pommel of the saddle, ready to fire at any moment. 'Cept it's gonna be harder this time; no lantern to see by, only a pale snow-light. So much snow, can't even see the stars.

The snow's fallin all over me, settlin' down my neck; thousands of freezin' flakes that I gotta keep shakin' off me, and outta my hair and eyes. Whirlin' round so much it near enough blinds me… Then I hear a howl close by and my heart thumps faster. So I fire some warnin' shots to let them wolves know I mean business. Blaze has his ears pulled back, and I know he's unsettled, but he ain't gonna let me down, even facin' wolves and a blizzard.

Gotta keep goin'… For _Mac_.

But it's so cold. _So cold. _Can't stop my teeth chatterin'; least it sorta' drowns out the sound of the wolves… Gotta keep goin'. Soon be back in town. Soon be warm. Soon have Mac warm again…

More howls…

Few more shots loosed from my pistol stops 'em for the moment. Reckon they realised I won't make 'em a good meal… Gotta hope that anyhow. Still keepin' my pistol to hand. Can't take any chances. And it's still a long way to go before I reach town… A long, cold way.

Hits me hard then as I'm tryin' to shield my face against a barrage of snow… I don't know where I am. I don't know where in the wilderness I am. All I can see around me is a whole spinnin', dizzyin' mess of snow… Nothin' but white to see… I'm lost… I'm lost…

I _ain't_ lost. Just a little uncertain of my exact position, temporarily. Gotta keep goin… Gotta trust Blaze; he knows where he's goin', even if his mistress is kinda' confused for the moment…

And cold. Got a feelin' like ice spreadin' all through me… _So_ cold. _Numb. _Feel my fingers freezin'. Gettin' kinda' hard to keep a hold of the reins… Feel tired too. _Real_ tired. Reckon it's all this snow… That freezin' white mess o' snow seems to have gotten into my head… Makin' me feel dizzy… I'm rubbin' my eyes… Seem to want to close… Maybe if I closed 'em for a few seconds, only a few seconds…

_No, _can't be doin' that. Real bad idea. Might never open 'em again. Gotta stay awake… Gotta try and hold on. _Gotta_ hold on…. Can't fall off… Can't…

There's somethin' ahead… I'm blinkin'… Somethin' shinin' through the snow… Can't entirely make it out… Lights? Sure looks like lights…

Why are there lights? Maybe it's lanterns… Maybe someone's shinin' a lantern… But who'd be doin' that? Maybe I'm seein' things… Can't be sure any more. Can't hardly keep my eyes open…Too tired now… Too cold… Too much snow…

_No_… I gotta hold on… Can't be much further now… Maybe I oughtta head towards the lights… Maybe lights'll get rid of those wolves… Can hear 'em howlin' again… Closer… Wind's howlin' too… Blowin' the snow round me… Blowin' wolves closer to me…

Gotta trust Blaze knows what to do… He's keepin' goin'… He's gonna get me there… I gotta hang on to him... All down to me… Gotta keep goin'. For Mac's sake… I _gotta_ keep goin'… Gotta hold on… _Hold on… _So tired though… So cold…

Hold on…

So tired…

Hold on…

So Cold…

Cold…

_Cold…_

**Can't seem to help myself with the peril… Please, please review; I hope you liked this chapter! My new job starts tomorrow, so reviews will really help :D Thank you, Lily x**


	10. The Searchers

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Notes**** Chapter 10: Meanwhile, back in Hattanville...**

**Thank you very much for all reviews, please continue! They're a great help with writing, and I really appreciate knowing what you think of this story. Thanks for alerts and favourites; to _afrozenheart412_ for extra thoughts; _Miss Poisonous_ for confidence boosts; and _Forest Angel_, _Blue Shadowdancer_ and _iluvCSI4ever_ for reading. **

**So, slightly ironically, or maybe it was even poetic justice, I found myself out in not one but two blizzards last week. I survived though :D Hopefully the characters will too...**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 10: The Searchers

Hawkes:

There's not a soul to see out there. I'm straining my eyes staring out the window, but there's nothing but white flakes falling from the sky. Look at it for too long, and it sends your eyes and mind spinning. Sure _looks_ beautiful from a safe and warm distance, but, out there, the reality's ugly as death. Been too many folks lost and perished in blizzards over the years; folks who got themselves disorientated, lost their way, and weren't found again till it was too late. Been more than a few fur trappers whose poor frozen forms haven't been discovered until the spring thaw. Every life taken by the brutal winter weather is a life too many, and right now we got two lives very important to the town out there somewhere.

It's been more than four hours since the Sheriff and Stella set out and I'm wondering whether we ought to take some action. Flack and I've been waiting in the Sheriff's office the last couple of hours whilst Hammerback and his wife, Miss Angell and Kelly, have been busy continuing the work looking for any other documents relating to the ownership of Hattanville. I'm mighty grateful for the arrival of Miss Kelly Higgins in town, can hardly believe it was only this morning she came riding out of nowhere and saved my life. Feels like I've known her for ever...

But we got two more lives in danger at present, and I turn to Flack to ask his opinion, "Blizzard's raging. Think we ought to send out a search party? They've been gone a while."

He's pacing the length and breadth of the room and I'm finding it a struggle not to do the same. But we couldn't have the two of us doing that. For one thing, there's not enough room in here for any real satisfactory pacing, and I know it won't do any good. We're both in a real state of worry for Taylor and Stella, and all kinds of scenarios as to their fate are playing in my mind. Blizzards here in the north western corner of the state are _not _to be taken lightly. If you go out in them, you're taking a gamble with your life. It's a truth both of them know very well. All I can hope is that they know what they're doing and we'll see them again, alive, before too much more time passes.

As any native of the state will tell you, the snowstorms and icy winds show mercy to neither man nor beast. You've got to be tough and know what you're doing out there, and even then it might not be enough to save you. Flack and I are both keeping our hopes pinned on our friends having the strength, and the luck, to return safely, but I reckon there's got to be _something_ we can do to give them a helping hand.

Flack's stopped his pacing and is standing in front of the fire with his thumbs hooked into his pockets. It's quite a blaze we got in the grate but it's not taken all the chill from the room.

I step over and join him, as he hasn't answered my question yet.

"What d'you think? Too soon to be sending out search parties?"

He speaks without turning his eyes away from the flames, "I'll tell you what I think, Doc, times like these I can't help thinkin' Mac's a darn fool. Hot-headed don't even come into it. Stella too. Woman's got too much of a spirit of recklessness. You saw how it was earlier; try arguin' with 'em when they've both made up their minds, and I'm tellin' you, Doc, you're wastin' you're breath." He shakes his head, "Sometimes I get to wonderin' if I'm wastin' my time as Deputy…"

They're the words of a worried man, and I don't take what Flack says as serious as he sounds, but I recognise he's in need of some reassurance. Truth is, I'm a little angry myself at Taylor and Stella for putting themselves in danger, but at the same time I'm admiring of them setting out to do this, not for themselves, but for the town. I can only hope it's not going to cost them, and us, dearly.

"You know Taylor better than anyone in this town does, except Stella." I keep my mind from darker thoughts by trying to stir up some of Flack's resolve, "You know he's a man wise enough to know the worth of his Deputy, even if he don't always show what he thinks. There isn't another man in town he's got more respect for. He'll have taken heed of what you said, even though he's made his own decision."

I'm speaking the truth. Taylor may be a man who blazes his own trail, but I know for a fact he'd have no other man as Deputy than Don Flack, and there's no better man to stand at his side and keep him steady.

No better woman than Stella to do the same. Hot-headed as she is herself at times, she keeps him grounded and cool-headed in many matters. I can fairly say the whole town was delighted when their Sheriff and the owner of the Star Saloon finally started stepping out together. Raised a smile from every one of us.

Wish I could find a smile for them now. If anything's happened to them, it's not just a Sheriff and a Saloon owner we'll have lost, but two of the finest people you could meet. It's a loss I can't even begin to think about, and won't until I'm forced to do so.

Flack's shoulders have slumped. A moment later though he turns to me and I see nothing but determination in his face.

"Know what, Doc? You're right. Mac's a downright stubborn man on most every matter, and this ain't gonna be an exception. Whatever's happened out there, he and Stella are gonna get themselves back to town safe and sound. That's not to say though they might be needin' a little help, after all, what's a Deputy's duty? How's this for a proposal - we give 'em half an hour more, then we start roundin' up a posse to ride out and follow their route."

"Sounds like sense to me."

As I turn to take another glance out of the door, into the swirls of snow and darkening skies, the hurricane lamp swinging over the lintel catches my eye, "And I got another idea as well…"

No more than fifteen minutes later and we got the whole of Main Street festooned with lights. A few knocks on doors and folks turned out in force and did us proud. We got nearly every lamp and lantern in the whole of Hattanville hung up outside of every building, creating a sight to make a man glow inside, and I'm hoping it's one our friends will be seeing real soon. Least we can do is give them a guiding light back home.

Flack's hanging the last lantern up outside the Saloon and I head over to join him. Can barely see more than a few feet along the road leading out of town, but I know that anyone coming _in_ is going to be seeing Hattanville from a long way off. Those lanterns make one heck of a difference, even though the snow's blowing like the whirling dervishes I've seen pictures of in the illustrated magazines Hammerback subscribes to and shares round town.

We're standing in a circle of light, stamping about in the snow and banging our arms against our sides as we peer into the gloom. It's a thin, cruel wind cutting through us, and it's a futile effort pulling our coats tighter against it. Can't help but note too how as soon as we make an impression in the snow with our boots, it's filled up with a fresh fall of flakes. There's no sound but the wind moaning, and it sends a shudder through me. If I was a fanciful man, I could even say it had a note of death in it. But I know it's just the noises of nature.

Nature's a merciless phenomenon though, and it doesn't do to trifle with it. We should rightly be inside, seems like madness to be ignoring that blazing fire back in the Sheriff's office, but neither of us want to stir a step. If our friends are on their way, then we'll be outside to greet them.

But there's nothing to see, nothing to hear.

Just the snow.

Just the wind.

"Doc! You hear that?" Flack's wading towards the road, "Coulda' sworn I heard hoof beats comin' towards us. Listen up!"

I'm straining my ears to hear even as I'm struggling through the drifts to catch his long legs up. Times like these I envy the height of Don Flack. He's stopped and is cupping his ear. Reckon he's going to be more attuned for hearing the noise of a horse, or horses I'm hoping, as Taylor and Stella left on one apiece. I'm straining my ears, hearing nothing, until I remember the time I heard a heartbeat in a man everyone else thought had left this world, and was able to bring him back to the land of the living. And then I catch the faint sound on the wind.

"You hear it, Doc?" Flack shouts at me over the wail of the blizzard.

"I hear it!"

Very faint, but getting closer, is the sound of a horse cantering towards us.

Only one horse.

Even deadened by the snow, it's an unmistakable sound. But as we listen, it starts to slow and falter and stop…

"The lanterns! Flack, grab a lantern and start yelling!"

Doesn't take us more than a moment to snatch the two closest to us, then, looking like a couple of mad men to anyone who might be watching, but not caring less about it, we start hollering and swinging those lanterns for all we're worth. Blasts of wind steal our voices, but we're not letting that daunt us.

Nor the fact that no one's answered us.

The hoof beats start up again, coming closer, slower now, but we can soon make out the dim shape of a horse coming towards us.

Whether there's a rider, we still can't tell for sure.

The blizzard is making it hard to stay standing, let alone see clearly. So we press forward, heaving our feet out of snow that seems to want to suck us into it, and I'm still praying the horse isn't without a rider…

We're beginning to despair when the poor beast finally comes into sight, drops its head with an exhausted whinny, and slows to a stop.

There's no one in the saddle.

Both of us stop dead in our tracks, not wanting to believe what we're seeing. Not wanting to believe what it means.

"Is that…?"

"Yeah." Flack's voice is bleak, and my heart sinks into my boots. "Recognise the star on his forehead. It's Blaze..." Stella's horse, but no sign of his owner, or Taylor. All I can think is that our worst fears have been realised.

_Our friends are lost._

But Flack's shining his lantern into the gloom, and turns to me with hope lighting his face, "Don't give up yet, Doc! Ain't no way that horse got this far by himself, gotta have had a rider some of the way. We just gotta find 'em!"

With his lantern held high, he strides a few steps ahead. I'm close behind, squinting hard. Can't make out a thing.

Nothing to hear.

Nothing to see.

Nothing but white.

Then Flack gives a yell, "I see somethin'!"

I see it too. A few yards away there's something in the snow…

A few steps closer and we can see a huddled shape on the ground. Few more steps and we see it's someone lying in a heap, fast becoming invisible as the snow settles over them…

Flack's the first to reach them, dropping his lantern, turning them over, "Little help, Doc!"

I'm already there, setting my lantern down carefully, as Flack's has gone out. Gives me enough light to see it's Stella, and she looks near frozen - her lips and eyelids are blue, and she's icy cold to the touch…

"Stella!" I'm trying desperately to find some life in her...

And then her eyes fly open and she clutches my hand with a grip of iron.

"Thank God!" The exclamation comes from both Flack and myself, and a breath of relief whooshes out of me. Any questions can wait - we need to get her inside, fast.

Flack takes hold of her arm gently, "Come on, Stell. Can't stay out here, lyin' in the snow."

Stella shakes her head, and speaks through violent shivers, "N-no intention of d-doin' so. G-got n-no time f-for that… "

I put my arm round her shoulders as she sits up, "Mac… H-he's trapped! We… we gotta help him! Gotta g-go get h-him out…"

The fear I'm feeling is as clear as ice in Flack's voice as he asks her, "What happened? Where is he?"

Her eyes fall closed for a moment, before she jerks them open, "Had to… had to l-leave him. Couldn't g-get him outta there..."

"Where? Where is he? Come on, Stell."

Her head droops and her eyes are closing again, so I give her a gentle shake.

"Stella! Stay with us. What happened? Where's Mac?"

She lifts her head and her eyes are open again, "Gun… gunpowder works. Ceiling c-collapsed on us, f-floor gave way. Got… got myself out, b-but couldn't f-free Mac. Stuck under a beam. Too… too heavy. Rode back to g-get help. We _h-have_ to go b-back there!"

Her hand is like a vice around mine and there's a terrible urgency in her voice, but I'm aware of the snow falling thick and fast around us and how much she's shaking with cold. There's a cold fear in me that the blizzard might have already taken a life, and I'm sure as hell not going to let it take another.

"Think you can stand, Stella?"

She nods, "S-sure I can."

I know Stella's not going to accept any more help than she has to, and I know, even though she won't admit it, that she's almost as bad as Mac in the way of avoiding my assistance. Remember the time she got bit by a rattle snake she'd been removing from Sinclair's store for him, and how it took Taylor threatening to carry her over his shoulder down Main Street to my surgery before she consented to me examining her. Fortunately, I was able to treat the bite without too much difficulty as it wasn't a full grown rattler. If it had been, it's likely I'd be telling a very different tale today.

It's not something I take personally however, and truth be told, there are a few of my patients I'd prefer _not_ to like calling me out so much. I have a suspicion that some of the senior ladies in town send for me just to have a sight of me, rather than for any _medical _need…

Stella has a store of stubborn strength, same as Taylor, but nonetheless, after Flack and I help her stand, we're both keeping a tight hold of her.

"We'll get you inside then Flack and I'll round a few folks up and head straight out there…"

The spark returns to her eyes, "And I'm c-comin' with you! Ain't t-time to be sittin' around inside whilst… whilst Mac's relyin' on me. I gotta g-get back out there and h-help rescue him!"

"Was he hurt?"

"Yeah, h-he got a f-few cuts, knock to his h-head, r-reckon he was in shock too, and water was seepin' in as I left. Freezin' cold w-water… can't keep him waitin' there, Hawkes. W-we gotta get… get back there!"

I exchange a look with Flack, and his face has darkened. He's keeping his grip round Stella and pulling her on.

She's resisting though, especially when I tell her, "You shouldn't be riding back out there - you're freezing…"

"I'm w-warmin' up already!" She answers even as another shudder rattles her teeth, "I'm f-fine and ready to… to go. Just n-need to… to see to Blaze first. C-couldn't have g-got back without him, n-need to make sure h-he's all right."

"You ain't goin' nowhere but indoors." Flack growls, and tugs her onwards.

He's met with more resistance, "Don't y-you be t-tellin' me w-where I ain't goin', Don Flack!"

We've no time for disputes, so I intervene, "We're going to have to do some quick preparations first. Seems like we're going to need ropes and so on. Flack, you get Blaze into the stables then see who you can round up, Messer and Ross for sure, and I know Miss Higgins will want to help too. Meantime, Stella, we'll go wait by the fire."

Give him his due, it only takes a moment for Flack to concede, "Won't take more than minutes to do that, I'll make sure of Blaze, then I'll direct Hammerback and his wife, Miss Monroe and Miss Angell to keep the fires burnin' here." He gives me a nod and Stella a glower before he heads over to her horse.

I pull Stella gently, "No good us standing out here waiting for him, and letting a perfectly good fire go to waste." She's still got a mulish look on her face, so I throw in a bit of manipulation, "Long as you're sure you can manage to walk there…"

"C-course I can m-manage!"

And she does, only stumbling once on the way to the Sheriff's office. I've soon got her sitting in front of the fire with a dry cloak round her, and it don't take long before the colour starts returning to her skin and her shivers subside.

Flack soon returns as promised with a small but trustworthy group all ready to head out and find Taylor. Kelly is amongst them, which I'm mighty pleased about, and she gives my fingers a squeeze as she joins me.

The moment everyone comes clattering through the door, Stella stands and announces defiantly, "We all ready to go? 'Cause you're gonna need someone to show you the way."

I hold my breath, anticipating Flack's reply, but it's what I'm least expecting, "Figured that's what you'd say, Stell, and I know I ain't gonna be able to stop you, so I took the liberty of pickin' up some of your strong stuff from the saloon…" He holds a bottle out to her which she takes with surprise.

"Where'd you find this?" She narrows her eyes, "I keep this in a secret place for emergencies only. How'd _you_ get a hold of it?"

He shrugs, and a grin appears for a moment, "Happened to see where you put it after you gave Mac a dose last week followin' that punch. Figured this counted as an emergency."

"Then I'll be findin' a new place for it. Still, I ain't ungrateful, and guess I _could_ do with a drop…"

With that, she pulls the cork out and puts it to her lips. The jaw of every man in the room drops as she swallows a draught without even blinking.

She replaces the cork and gives herself a slight shake, "_Damn_ that's good! Fires you up ready for anythin'. Anyone else wantin' a drop?"

There are denials all round, all of us being uncertain as to what exactly she mixes up in the liquor that's become legendary in town.

She smiles, "I'll keep a hold of it then, reckon we might need some before the night's out. Any of you need any, I hope you'll not be afraid to ask."

More rapid murmurs of denial as Stella tucks it into her cloak.

Then the smile's gone and she's heading out of the door, "Let's go, Mac's waitin' for us."

Flack's saddled her up a fresh horse, and I don't miss the grateful smile and thanks she gives him. She may be a stubborn and hot-headed woman, but she's never one to wrong a friend or stay unjustly angry with anyone for long.

Stella's at the head of the group as we set off with Kelly and myself flanking her; Flack and Messer take up the rear, with the rest of the men in between. The snow falls thick and fast around us and the wind cuts through every layer of clothing we're wearing.

I can only hope we reach Taylor before it's too late.

**Will they reach Mac in time? Find out next chapter! Please, please review and let me know what you think, I'd love to know, and it helps me with the next chapter :D Thank you, Lily x**


	11. Home On The Range

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Notes**** Chapter 11: The mission to rescue Mac…**

**Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help with writing, and I really appreciate knowing what you think. Thanks to _iluvCSI4ever_ for lending me Kelly, her character from 'The One With…' and for reading; to _Blue Shadowdancer, Forest Angel _(the ending got away from me...)_ fractured-fairytale06 _and_ marialisa _for discussion and help; _afrozenheart412 _and _chrysalis escapist _for extra thoughts; and to all who have reviewed, including _Saggitarius Fire Goddess _- sorry I couldn't send a proper reply.**

**I'd really like to know what you think of this chapter, as I'm not using one of the regular characters to narrate - please review and let me know!**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 11: Home On The Range

Kelly:

I declare, this has gotta be one of the most eventful days of my young life! Never thought at the start of the day, when the sun risin' over the mountains woke me, that at the end of it, I'd be ridin' out as a member of a search and rescue party. No sir. And in a blizzard no less! Snow's one thing I ain't gotten used to out here. Ain't somethin' we get a whole lot of back home, and it still takes my breath away. It's a real rare sight, and one that fascinates my eyes. Mighty strange phenomenon, sorta like a white blanket coverin' the world up. Sure is a thing to behold; terrible dangerous thing too. I ain't simple, I know we ain't out for a leisure ride; this is a serious and dangerous situation, and the blizzards's the main reason for that. Know that for sure as I'm lookin' back at the route we've ridden and can't see nothin' in the way of tracks, or anythin' to show we've passed along. Almost like we'd never even been there, and _that_ gives me a shiver.

Ain't gonna think too much 'bout that though; I know we're here and I know we're gonna make it to the end of this day and into the next one. But quite a day it's been, and not just for me, but all the folks of this here small town. How 'bout all these events? Fair makes a gal catch her breath thinkin' 'bout everythin' that's been crammed into one day. And the day ain't even over yet… Well, almost; sun slipped outta sight a good number of hours ago, and reckon there ain't many more to go now till midnight.

Reckon when I get the chance to write it, I'm gonna have one heck of a letter full of news to send to the folks back home! Like to keep 'em informed of my doings out West, keeps Ma and Pop entertained. Get real pleasure from tellin' 'em 'bout my adventures, even if I do hold my pen back from recountin' some of the hair-raisin' exploits I've gotten myself into on occasion. Didn't tell 'em fr'instance the full story of my narrow escape at the Grand Canyon, when my horse decided he was gonna do a bolt after bein' spooked by a coyote. Nearly bolted clean over the edge of the canyon, takin' me with him… Whew, makes my hands shake a little to think of it even now! Managed to yank the reins hard enough to pull him back at the last minute and Dancer came to a stop with his hooves hangin' over a sheer drop. I'm tellin' nothin' but the truth when I say I weren't more than a hair's breadth from a terrible long fall.

Never forget starin' down all that way and realisin' how close I'd come to bouncin' down to my death. Made me realise how precarious a hold we all got on life; how dangerous places can be if you lose your concentration for more than a moment. Life's a precious thing, and too easy to lose out here in a wild place like the West. Decided it wasn't the kindest thing to be tellin' the folks back home 'bout that little adventure; so the version of events they got was that I'd been for a leisurely canter along the canyon and admired the view. Didn't see the need to give 'em unnecessary cause for worryin'; reckon they worry enough about me bein' far away out here seekin' my fortune.

Thinkin' about keepin' safe and how easy it is to lose a life, I'm lookin' round me now, makin' sure we're all doin' fine, and we're the same number we set out from the town with. Yep, can count we're all still here. Still got Miss Stella leadin' our little band, with me and Sheldon either side of her; Mr Flack, Mr Messer and Mr Ross ain't far behind with a few more folks I ain't yet been properly introduced to, but who seem to be fine and capable gentlemen. I'm surrounded by good folks, and it makes me real proud that I was asked to be accompanyin' them. Now that's somethin' I _will_ be tellin' Ma and Pop. Reckon they might be proud of me for it, and it'll maybe be somethin' they can tell the folks at church on Sunday.

Gosh, I miss 'em real hard when I get to thinkin' 'bout them! Home sure is a long way from Hattanville. I got the finest family a gal could wish for back in the greatest state of the Union, Texas that is, so I do my best to keep in touch with 'em, even though with all the travellin' I been doin', it's kinda hard for letters to catch up with me. They get through to me now and again, however, and I got a small pack of letters I keep close to my heart from Ma and Pop and my brothers. Take 'em out most nights and read 'em; reckon I got their words near enough memorised by now, and they've pulled me through some tough times.

Sheldon was real interested to hear 'bout my family, and I was happy to oblige in tellin' him - we had a mighty enjoyable talk over dinner about our respective folks. Why, to think I only met Sheldon Hawkes a few hours ago, but already I'm addressin' him by his first name, and feelin' like I've known him all my life! That sure is a special feelin'. It was a real pleasure to sit and share a meal with him, served up by Mrs Wildman his housekeeper. Now there's a woman who can talk without takin' a breath, but a real good-hearted soul none the less.

Doctor Sheldon Hawkes though - he's a gentleman through and through, yes sir. Real glad we're ridin' out together. The sight of him gives me a feelin' of reassurance, and hope that we're gonna find Sheriff Taylor still in one piece. Only had a coupla' short conversations with the Sheriff of Hattanville today, but I know as sure as the sun sets in the West, that he's also a mighty fine gentleman. Reckon my Pop would approve of such a man, and approve of Sheldon too. Know that for sure, 'cause my Pop's the greatest gentleman I know, same as Ma's the greatest lady I know. Yes sir, I sure do miss them and my home back in Texas. But, after the warm reception I got in town after doin' nothin' but what anyone woulda' done when someone was in need of assistance, I got the strangest sorta' feelin' that I've found a place I could also call home. Sure, I ain't been in in Hattanville more than a day, but it's a place I can see myself stayin' many more days.

_Home_. Interestin' kind of idea. Known many places where I've laid my head for a night, some better than others - the floor of a barn where a colony of rats lived comes to mind as one of the worst places. Or there's the cave I slept in the entrance of, and woke up just in time to avoid the bear it rightly belonged to - that was another encounter I _didn't_ write home about. Couldn't rightly call any of them places home, 'cause home ain't just where you lay your head. Reckon it's gotta be a place you lay your _heart_ too, and that can't be any old place.

Yes sir, there've been a few places I wouldn't care to call home, not in a million and one years. I've travelled through a good many states and towns, and found folks are mostly friendly to a young woman on her own, but I learned that I ain't in the safest position, even with my skills and experience. Had a couple of unpleasant encounters with folks that _weren't_ so friendly, and weren't wantin' to do nothin' but take advantage of a gal on her own. Guess they underestimated me though; shan't ever forget the dealin's I had with one man. Huh, reckon with all the alcohol he'd drunk, he thought I was gonna be bendin' easily to his will and his roving hands, but he got more'n he bargained for when I looped him up in my lasso and brought him crashin' down to the ground in a big ol' mess of mud, and other stuff that weren't mud! Reckon it took him a fair few days to wash the stink off of him. Sure taught _him_ a lesson, one I hope he ain't forgotten, so maybe the next young gal adventurin' on her own don't need to have that kind of attention.

That memory brings me back to Sheldon, and the attentions he's shown me the last few hours - I gotta say it again, he's been nothin' less than a gentleman, and I got a feelin' he's a man I can lay my trust in. Reckon that's somethin' all these folks around me do; easy to see the respect he's got from all of 'em, the Sheriff included.

Reckon the Sheriff's also a man that's got the respect, and trust, of this here town. As I'm glancin' round again at everyone, I can see the worry in their faces. It's all too plain what the loss of such a man would be. I'm lookin' over at Miss Stella as I'm thinkin' that, and I wonder exactly what _she's_ thinkin' at this moment. Can't hardly imagine how she's feelin', but I got an inklin'. She ain't givin' anythin' away with words, but her face sure tells a story.

Liked her as soon as I laid eyes on her this mornin', made me feel real welcome to the town, she and the Sheriff both did. Seems the two of 'em have quite some history between them - Sheldon told me the stories of some folks over dinner. Not that he's a man for gossipin', no sir, he ain't that at all, but he's got a store of knowledge about the history of the town and all the folks in it. I sure enjoyed listenin' to his recountin' of Hattanville's tales and legends. Sheldon's lived here a fair number of years, and had his share of troubles too. Only mentioned them briefly and in a matter of fact way, 'bout the few folks who were too short-sighted to see past the colour of his skin when he first arrived.

Darn it though, that makes me _real _mad! That such a man as him should be judged that way. Why, we're all the same underneath, and the colour of a man's skin, black or white or any shade in between, don't determine whether he's possessed of a good heart or not. I've encountered my share of bad-hearted folks during my travels, and they came in all shapes, colours and sizes. Reckon I'm a fair judge of character, even if I do say so myself, and I could tell darn straight the moment I met him that Sheldon's a good man inside and out, with a heart that's true and brave.

Yes sir, a good man indeed. Real handsome too… I steal another glance across at him as we're canterin' along, can see him clearly in the light of the lanterns, and I better be truthful and own that it gives my heart a flutter to look at him. Even through the snow that ain't showin' no sign of lettin' up, I can see the brightness of his eyes. Feel real safe and secure knowin' he's out here with me. We share a smile and, gosh, ain't he got one heck of a smile! Only just come to know it, but it's fair and honest to say I'd find it real hard to give up the sight of that smile. Sorta makes me catch my breath, but in a real good way, and I know for sure I got a feelin' for this man. Hope it's right and proper for me to be feelin' this way. Well, guess I've heard folks talk often enough 'bout love, but don't reckon I ever felt it before now. Maybe now's the time though. Got a powerful sorta' tinglin' feelin inside, and my stomach feels like it's got sparks shootin about inside. And I don't reckon that's down to anythin' I've eaten neither…

But I'm lettin' thoughts run away with me here, reckon I'd be better concentratin' on the task we got ahead of us, namely the rescuin' of Sheriff Taylor. Sheldon's told me a fair bit about him, and I reckon I got a feelin' as to what sort of man he is from him, as well as my own impressions. Now if _he_ ain't a man in love then my name ain't Kelly Catherine Higgins! And equally if the woman of his affections ain't the same one ridin' next to me, then I'm a Dutchwoman. So, seein' as Kelly Catherine Higgins is what I was christened, and that me and my folks ain't ever set foot outside the US of A, then I know it to be true. Way I see it, and the way everyone else in town sees it, is that the Sheriff of Hattanville has been in love with the owner of the finest, and only, Saloon in town for as long as anyone can remember.

Trouble is, it seems to have taken them a fair bit o' time to realise the fact themselves.

Why, you only gotta look in their eyes to see how they feel! Saw it myself this morning' with the way the corners of the Sheriff's mouth sorta' turned up and how his eyes kinda' creased at the side and started shinin' when he was lookin' at said Saloon owner. I'm an observant kinda' gal, but it don't take much observin' to realise Sheriff Taylor's got eyes for no other woman than Miss Stella Bonasera, and she ain't got no eyes for any other man but him.

Sheldon was tellin' me though, it's only in the last few months, after a big adventure in town involvin' a gang of wrong-doers, that they started a-courtin'. Now Sheldon reckons the question on folks' lips is when the Sheriff is gonna be askin' a certain question of Miss Stella; reckon we're all hopin' now it ain't been left too late. Why, that would be nothin' less than a tragedy! My way of thinkin' is to always be seizin' hold of the moment, otherwise you might never get that same moment again. Maybe it's somethin' someone oughtta be sayin' to the Sheriff, to give him a sorta' poke in the right direction, so he don't lose his chance with Miss Stella.

Shakin' my head to clear some of the snow outta my eyes, I look across to the lady in question as we're gallopin' along. She's still leadin' our little band, but hasn't uttered more'n a word since we set out. Don't think anyone knows exactly what to say to her neither, not even Mr Flack who seems a real good friend of hers. It's a sad change in her since our first meetin' this morning'. Could see the happiness in her then, got a real sense of her joy of livin', but that ain't present no more. There's nothin' but fear and worry in her face now. Seems to have affected the whole of her appearance and person too.

Saw this mornin' that she's a fashionable kinda' lady, could easily see her in one of them fashion plates in the Sears catalogue Ma likes to admire a little wistfully. As she's told me herself many a time, Ma ain't got the figure of a thin woman, but as Pop tells her, that just means she's got more beauty for him to admire. Brings a smile to my face suddenly thinkin' 'bout that, and the lovin' smile they give each other when Pop tells her that. There's more to beauty than looks and fashion, yes sir. Gotta agree with Pop when he tells Ma she got beauty inside that not many can stake a claim to.

Gotta confess, I felt a little ashamed of my appearance this mornin' on first meetin' Miss Stella, dressed as I was, and still am, in my muddy chaps and a shirt that if I'm honest, ain't seen soap and water for more'n a few days. But, gotta give her credit, it weren't nothin' on her part that made me feel ashamed, and after she shook my hand, that were the end of the feelin'. She was nothin' less than welcomin', and I could tell there's a whole lot more to her than a fashionable dress and a purty face.

Sad to see it, but right now, her appearance ain't nowhere near as trim as it was this mornin'. Her dress is all mussed up, got a great long rent in it through to her petticoats, and it's covered in streaks of dirt; seems to have pieces torn out of it too. Can see as well she's got marks and scratches 'cross her face, and her hair's come loose from the arrangement she had it in earlier.

Don't reckon she cares a jot 'bout that though.

We ain't heard the full story 'bout what happened at the gunpowder works, but it's got to have been real bad for her to have come ridin' back to town on her own. Gotta shake my head in admiration of her courage in doin' that'; I'm with a whole band of folks, and I'm still a little afraid bein' out in these conditions. Can understand her doin' it though; man she loves is in a bunch of trouble, and I can tell she ain't the sort to let anythin' stand in the way of helpin' him, even if it means puttin' herself in peril.

It's clear Sheriff Taylor's an important man to everyone here, and that's the reason we've all set off in the worst weather I've ever known. Worry's plain to see in everyone's face as I glance around. Wish there was somethin' I could be sayin' to reassure them, but don't reckon words are gonna be much good at this time. We just gotta keep goin' and keep hope in our hearts…

Suddenly, Miss Stella's holdin' up her lantern; so Sheldon and me follow her example - must be gettin' close now to our destination. Sure enough, she turns round and calls out.

"Almost there! Can see the works in the distance, keep goin!"

Well, we ain't gonna be doin' anything' less than that, so all of us put a spurt on. Reckon our horses got a sense of our urgency as they're near enough flyin' over the snow. What a sight we must be, a band of folks and their horses out here. Surprised we ain't attracted the attention of any of the wild beasts out here; only thing we heard earlier was the faint sound of wolves howlin' some way off in the distance. Reckon we're too big a group for 'em to take on. Truth is, I got a real admiration for wolves, noble beasts they are, but it ain't me who'd be wantin' to face a starvin' pack of 'em. Got a glimpse of Miss Stella's face when those wolves started howlin', and it weren't my imagination that she turned a shade paler. Could see her holdin' real tight to her pistol too. Guess she had some bother from them wolves earlier.

Seems too she had somethin' of a lucky escape from freezin' out in the snow, so I heard from Mr Flack and Sheldon's brief conversation to me before we set out. They were real fortunate to have found her, considerin' the snow's near enough blindin' and icy cold too. Makes me have a longin' for the heat of Texas, or the heat of the blazin' fire we left burnin' back home… Back in Hattanville that is. Gosh darn it, if that ain't a remarkable thing! Guess my heart really _is_ guidin' me on the matter of home…

"Over there!" Miss Stella's cry startles me out of my contemplatin'; seems we've made it to these here gunpowder works.

In a few moments, we're ridin' into an open yard in front of a big old place that looks like it ain't too far from collapsin'. Whew, if that's where the Sheriff is, then we got one heck of a task on our hands to get him outta there…

There's a horse tied up outside, who whinnies as we approach. Miss Stella jumps down from her own horse and rushes over to it.

"Oh, Blue!" She says and buries her face for a moment in its neck, all the while her hand's strokin' its back, "Told you I'd be back and you'd be seein' your master again real soon." Then she turns to the rest of us, and there's hardly a waver in her voice as she tells us, "All of you gotta be real careful inside, you hear? Floor's given way and there ain't too many solid floorboard's left. Gotta watch where you step." In another moment, she's sweepin' past, hurryin' to get inside the building, her lantern swingin'

Mr Flack's already dismounted from his own horse with a rope over his shoulder. He catches up to Miss Stella and stops her with a hand on her arm, "That goes for you too, Stell. Don't be doin' any unnecessary heroics, we're all here to help."

Sheldon and me have slid down off our horses, and together with the other gentlemen, we're standin' back a little way.

I'm close enough though to see the anger that flares in Miss Stella's face; then it dies away and she looks up at him with nothin' but sadness, "Don, I ain't gonna be doin' anythin' to jeopardise Mac's safety, or anyone else's here, you can trust me on that. All I want is to get him outta here and back home safely, get _all_ of us back home safely."

"I know that." He sighs, "It's all I want too, and what we're gonna do as well." There's no more to say after that, as we all make our way inside silently. Sheldon takes a hold of my hand in his, and it's somethin' that feels nothin' but right, as we step outta the snow and into the wreck of that old building.

Got a bad feelin' soon as we get inside though, not least 'cause of the creakin' and groanin' soundin' all around me as we clamber over what was the roof. Miss Stella's already crouchin' over a mighty great hole in the floor, callin' out as the rest of us gather round, shinin' our lanterns down into it.

"Mac? Mac, it's me, it's Stella! Told you I'd be back here to get you out, didn't I? I ain't come alone neither, got Don and other folks with me, so we can all get you outta there…"

There's a pause, and reckon none of us even breathe as we wait for an answer.

'Cept there ain't any answer forthcomin'.

I look at Sheldon and see his mouth's set in a grim line.

Miss Stella calls again, and there's a note of fear buildin' in her voice now, "Mac! Mac, _please_, you gotta answer me! _Mac! _You still there? 'Cause you'd better still be there like you said you'd be… Please, Mac, I'm here, I'm safe, I came back! And we're gonna get you outta there, like I promised… "

"Stell…" Mr Flack's reachin' out, takin' hold of her shoulder, but she shakes him off and calls again.

"_Mac!_" Her voice rises, "Mac, you _gotta_ answer me, please! Mac you made a promise to _me_, remember? You promised you weren't gonna be leavin' me!"

Only sound's the sighin' of old timbers. Sheldon grips my hand tighter.

"You promised me, Mac! You _promised!_" Sounds almost like a sob in her voice, and I can't hardly bear to hear it; the Sheriff ain't answerin' her, and that can only mean bad news.

"_Mac!_"

The wind moans through the rafters. No one's movin' nor even takin' a breath.

"_You promised…_"

**Is Mac still alive? More next chapter... Sorry for the delay in updating; work and perilous cliff-top adventures to blame XD I hope the wait was worth it. Please, please review and let me know; it also helps with writing chapter 12! Thanks, Lily x**


	12. The Magnificent Nine

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Notes**** Chapter 12: Surely it's not too late for Mac?**

**Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help with writing, and I really appreciate knowing what you think. Thanks to _Forest Angel _and _fractured-fairytale06 _for discussion and help; to _chrysalis escapist _and _afrozenheart412 _for extra thoughts; and to all who have reviewed! **

**Dedicated to _Blue Shadowdancer_, on condition of stories being finished XD**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 12: The Magnificent Nine

Adam:

Don't give up hope, Miss Stella, please! My heart's near enough breakin' hearin' her callin' to the Sheriff, remindin' him of promises made, and gettin' no answer. She's fallen silent now… We're all silent; all waitin'… The Sheriff's gonna be all right though; he's gotta be! Sure wish I could say that out loud to Miss Stella, but my tongue's all kinda' tied, and words won't come outta my mouth. Maybe it wouldn't be the right thing to be sayin' to her anyhow. She mightn't like me speakin' out. Might think I was bein' impertinent. Feel like I gotta make some kinda' noise though; and if I don't make a speakin' kinda noise, then I mightn't be able to stop a real bad kinda' noise comin' from me. Like a scream… Can't be screamin' though. Ain't a manly sort of a thing to be doin', screamin'.

Silence is gettin' real heavy now, weighin' us all down. Miss Stella's on her knees, bent right over that hole, so if she leans any further, she's gonna be fallin' down there. Can't have that happenin, no way. Already got the Sheriff injured. Reckon too he'd be real mad if Miss Stella was hurt. Remember in the summer how he kinda' flew across the bar when he thought Mr Gerrard had hurt her; but as it turned out of course, it was Miss Stella who ended up savin' his life, with a real sharp shot from her pistol….

Wonder how many pistols she's got with her now? Reckon Danny's wonderin' that too. Daren't catch his eye. Feel kinda' guilty for makin' bets on Miss Stella's pistols, but Danny tells me she ain't ever gonna know… Got my doubts about that though; seen her lookin' kinda' thoughtfully at him sometimes, and I got no doubt it don't bode well for him if she does know…

But what am I thinkin'? This ain't a suitable time to be thinkin' about bets and such! I'm ashamed at myself.

Hope no one's seen my blushes, reckon they're all concentratin' on other things though. Namely listenin' for any sound from the Sheriff. Miss Stella's still leanin' over. Don't think she's gonna fall though, 'cause her lantern's steady in her hand. Can't see no tremblin' in her fingers. She's bendin' but she ain't broken. She ain't gonna be breakin' neither. She's strong and brave, and so's the Sheriff. Both of 'em are gonna make it outta this situation.

'Cause Hattanville needs its Sheriff and its Saloon Owner.

"Mac!" She calls to him again.

Still no answer, and now the cold's startin' to get to every one of us. That's gotta be why the Sheriff ain't answerin'. The cold's gotten to him too, must've frozen up his vocal chords. Cold's gotta be the explanation for the shakin' that's buildin' up inside of me. But I ain't lettin' it out. No way. Gotta be strong. We're all relyin' on each other here. Sheriff's relyin' on all of us stayin' strong.

And we gotta get him out 'fore it gets too cold. Snow's blowin' through the gaps in the buildin' as we're all standin' listenin' for any kind of sound. My feet are startin' to freeze, but that ain't so big a deal. Can't be complainin' when Sheriff Taylor's in one heck of a dire situation. I'll just shift about a little, try and warm up, but real quietly - don't wanna be makin' noise to disturb the listenin'. Feels like we been listenin' for hours, but guess it's only been a few seconds. Amazin' how a few seconds of silence can feel like a lifetime.

Miss Stella's callin' again, "_Mac!_"

Still nothin'. I'm glancin' round at everyone, seein' looks exchanged now. Real grim looks. I know what they're all thinkin', but I ain't gonna be thinkin' that. Ain't often I don't do what 'most other folks are doin', but reckon this is time to make an exception. Even though some of 'em might've given up hope, I sure ain't!

But Sheriff Taylor still ain't answerin. Ain't a sound. Not a thing. Got my hat held in my hands now; maybe I can hear better if it ain't on my head. 'Cept now I got the sound of my blood rushin' in my ears…

"Please, Mac!"

Miss Stella calls again. My hat's twistin' in my hands. Don't wanna believe it, but reckon her voice is startin' to crack now. But if that happens, if she starts breakin', then what are the rest of us gonna do? This is real bad! Can't do nothin' to help and that cuts me hard; to hear her callin' and nobody answerin'. Mr Flack's standin' sorta' helplessly over her, his arms hangin' at his side. Guess he don't know what to say to her neither. Rest of us are standin' round the hole, lookin' down, waitin'.

Hope the Sheriff don't make Miss Stella wait too long. He's gotta answer her soon… But if he's still down there, still alive, then why ain't he answerin'?

Everything's kinda' frozen. All of us sure are, 'cause I can see nothin' but white cold faces and shiverin' bodies. Feels like the snow and the silence has sorta' wrapped us up, got us trapped…

Ah heck, this ain't no good at all! Surely this can't be happenin' for real? The Sheriff can't … can't be… No, no way! Not Sheriff Taylor! I ain't gonna say it! He can't be gone, he… he can't be! It ain't what's meant to happen! We're gonna find him, get him outta here, and take him back home - that's what's meant to happen, that's what's _gonna_ happen. Then he's gonna get back to health again, with the help of the Doc, and Miss Stella will be makin' sure of him gettin' better too… Then we're gonna figure out some way to sort out those no-good folks of the railroad company, 'cause we got all sorts of people real good at figurin' out, includin' the Sheriff. Don't know rightly if I'm so good at that, but I'll do what I can. Do what I can to help get everyone happy again…

"_Mac!_"

That last cry does it.

Can't stand it no longer; can't bear to hear Miss Stella callin' out and no one answerin'… Before I know what my feet are doin', I'm kinda' leapin' over to her, droppin' down beside her, and I hope I ain't gonna offend her by doin' this, her bein' a lady and all, but I put my arm round her shoulders, and hear myself speakin'.

"Miss… Miss Stella, it's gonna be okay! Really. I… I know it is, 'cause the Sheriff's a fightin' sorta' man, and he won't have given up… He'd never be givin' up on you…"

Heck! Words sorta' slipped outta my mouth before I could stop 'em! Can't take 'em back now they've been said. Can't do that with words, once they've been said, they're said, and you gotta take the consequences…

Feel a blush creepin' into my face now, and even though it's warmin' my cheeks, reckon I could do without that kinda' heat… I risk lookin' at Miss Stella, and very slowly she turns to face me, and I get a feelin' the consequences of my actions are about to be faced… Can see her eyes are kinda' glassy lookin' and she's real pale. Gotta hope I've done the right thing by speakin' to her. Can't entirely guess what she's gonna say, so I kinda' hold my breath and grip the brim of my hat real tight…

But there's the faintest smile appearin' on her lips, "Thanks, Adam. Appreciate you sayin' that." She says, and I let out my breath in a kind of whoosh. Duck my head too; feel real embarrassed now, but mighty glad that I've maybe been somethin' of a help to her. If that ain't of course an arrogant thing to be thinkin'…

Then she turns away again, holds her lantern down as far as she can and swings it back and forth, making patterns of light that sorta' dance about in the darkness. It's so quiet I can hear the breath Miss Stella takes in before she calls out in a voice that seems a little louder than a moment ago.

"Mac! You _gotta_ answer me! Everyone's waitin' for you, me especially. Remember somethin' I said to you not so long ago, right after we dealt with Gerrard and his gang? I told you not to keep a lady waitin'!" She dashes a hand across her eyes, "Remember that? Don't you be keepin' me waitin' any longer, Mac Taylor! We waited long enough before…"

Ain't nothin' movin' but a whirl of snowflakes round our heads. Can see 'em catchin' the lantern light as they sink down slow as anythin' to the floor. Everything's still.

We're waitin'. Still waitin'…

And then, far below us, somewhere deep down in all that darkness, we hear a sound. Real soft, sorta' like someone sighin' far below us. But it's a sound…

Not a one of us dares to move for a second. Guess we're hardly darin' to believe we heard what we thought we heard. Surely it weren't just our imaginings and hope? Surely we really did hear somethin' from down in that dark hole the Sheriff's gotten himself fallen into?

I'm hopin so; hopin' with all my heart, 'cause I don't… don't rightly know what we'd do without Sheriff Taylor. Don't rightly know what Miss Stella would do 'specially. That ain't to say o' course she's a woman who can't get along without a man, no, that ain't what I mean at all… Heck, I'm gettin' myself all flustered up here with my thinkin'. Guess what I'm meanin' is that the two of 'em kinda… kinda' belong with each other, and one without the other somehow don't seem right…

She's hangin' over the edge where the floorboards've kinda' broken off. Can't see nothin' but shadows down there. Makes me shiver, 'cause even though I'm a grown man, I can still recall bein' scared of the dark... But I'm grabbin' hold tight of my hat in my hands, and it stops my hands from shakin'. Can't let anyone see that, no way, ain't gonna show my fear. That ain't gonna help a soul. Anyhow, I ain't afraid. I ain't where the Sheriff is, trapped under a great big beam, all alone in the dark…

"Mac? _Mac!_" Miss Stella cries, "If you're hearin' me, you gotta let me know you're there! Just another sound, Mac, please!"

Ain't nothin' for a moment. Mr Flack's on his knees too, leanin' over the other side of the hole, got the rope from round his shoulders next to him on the floor…

Then the sound, quiet as anythin', a rustlin' sorta' sound comes again, and we all look at each other, and I see somethin' that weren't there a moment or two ago in folks' faces.

Hope.

We gotta take action now. Plenty of us to be gettin' the Sheriff out. I'm real proud to have been asked to be part of the rescue group. There's Danny and me, Doc Hawkes and the new lady in town, and John Carter, Hank Gibson and Lenny Cody. Reckon them three are the biggest men you're likely to see anywhere in the West. Standin' near to 'em makes me feel kinda like a mouse; ain't never seen muscles the size of the ones they got! Reckon they got more strength than pine trees in their legs. Got the height of pine trees too; Lenny makes even Mr Flack seem on the short side, and that's sayin' somethin'. He's a mighty tall man, Mr Flack, gentleman too, and he ain't never had a cross word to say to me. Sheriff Taylor ain't ever spoken angrily to me neither. Won't ever forget his goodness and justice over all the troubles I got into that day back in June.

Guess it's okay to be thinkin' it, just to myself, but that day I was… well, I was scared for my life. When Stan Gerrard told me he was gonna… gonna _hang_ me; if it hadn't been for Sheriff Taylor's speakin' up for me, don't rightly know what might've happened to me. Reckon he saved my life that day.

And I know, that without Sheriff Taylor, Hattanville wouldn't be the same town. It'd be a town in a real sad state. Guess we're in somethin' of a sad state though anyhow, and I gotta wonder if we're still gonna have a Hattanville for much longer. Heck, guess all of us had almost forgotten about the threat from the railroad company in all this situation with the Sheriff…

But the sound down there's gotta be proof he's alive! Reckon Miss Stella's got the same idea too, 'cause there's fire blazin' in her eyes again.

"Mac, I'm comin'! Hang on!"

Seems she's about to leap into the darkness, but Mr Flack grabs her before she can.

"Oh no you don't Stell! Ain't no way you're goin' back down there - you damn near froze to death earlier, and you're still near enough frozen now." He pulls her round to face him, gently though. "Sorry to say this, but reckon you're gonna need some tough words to be persuadin' you; you mightn't realise it, but you had one hell of a lucky escape earlier - few more minutes lyin' out there, and it would have been your corpse the Doc and me were uncoverin' from the snow. I'm tellin' you, you're lucky you ain't lyin' cold and stiff in one of Hammerback's pine coffins right now…"

But she ain't havin' none of it.

"Maybe I was lucky, but fact remains that I ain't frozen or dead at Hammerback's, I'm right here, and I'm fine Don. I have to get down there! Mac's down there, he's alive, we gotta get him out!"

"Yeah, _we_ gotta get him out, and at this moment, 'we' don't include you. That ain't any judgement on your capabilities, it's a friend tellin' you that you ain't in any fit state to be climbin' down there!"

She's got a look of anger in her eyes, and I'm real glad her gaze ain't turned on me; reckon if looks could do damage, Mr Flack'd be catchin' fire right about now…

"I appreciate you bein' concerned for my welfare, but Mac needs my help! He's what's important here…"

Doc Hawkes steps forward then, and stands in front of Miss Stella, "Flack's speaking sense, Stella; you go down there and you might not come out alive." Got a real gentle voice, the Doc has, but there's a whole heap of strength hidden in there. He ain't gonna be easy to disagree with.

Miss Stella's sure givin' it a good try though as she folds her arms across her chest, "I got myself up outta there, so ain't no reason I can't go back down the same way! And we're wastin' time here by arguin'…"

With just a hand on her arm, the Doc stops her, "I can take a guess at how you're feeling, but you've got to listen to us on this, for Mac's sake as well as your own."

"I ain't gonna be standin' around whilst you all put yourselves at risk!" She protests, but he ain't put off.

"I know you're not, and that's not what we're suggesting. You're right, Mac needs help, but as you said yourself, you can't shift the beam that's got him trapped, so we need someone down there who can. It isn't any weakness, Stella, simply a matter of practicalities. We'll go down there and meantime, you'll be right here to help when we get him out. You and Kelly can get coffee and blankets ready, as I reckon Mac's going to need them when we bring him up."

Miss Stella's shakin' her head though, "I promised him, Hawkes, I promised I'd be back to help him, to get him outta there!"

"And that's what you've done, you got help, you brought us all here."

Gotta agree with the Doc, wouldn't none of us be here if Miss Stella hadn't made it back to town. Take my hat off to her in admiration of that. Least I would if my hat weren't already in my hands…

"Let _us_ go down, Stella. We can shout back up, keep you informed of what's going on, and you'll be helping Mac at the same time up here."

There's a few moments whilst Miss Stella's got all kinds of feelin's showin' in her face; don't think she knows entirely what to do, can almost see her fightin' with herself. I ain't gonna be sayin' a word though, the Doc and Mr Flack are the ones doin' the talkin' here. Guess they got the right sorta' wisdom to know what to say.

Finally, Miss Stella rubs her hand across her forehead, and looks between the two of 'em, "Guess you ain't gonna let me win on this one, huh?"

"May come as somethin' as a shock to you, but no, this time we ain't." Mr Flack says.

"All right." She sighs, "You got me beat, but only this once, and only 'cause it's the best thing for Mac. You understand me?"

Both the Doc and Mr Flack nod their heads.

"Understood." The Doc says, and Miss Stella gives them both a hard stare.

"Well then what're you waitin' for? Get yourselves down there, and me and Miss Higgins'll see to some blankets and coffee."

"Y'all can rely on me." The young Texan lady speaks up, "Though I say it myself, I'm real good at warmin' coffee and blankets, been a necessity in some of the places I been to. I'll go fetch what we need." With a touch of her hat to everyone, and a smile to the Doc, she's as good as her word. She's given an admirin' look by the Doc as she goes - don't reckon his eyes leave her till she's outta the door. Real good thing to see that; reckon the Doc's been a bachelor long enough. He's a real good man, and the whole town'd be more than happy to see him settled with a lady to be carin' for him. Reckon he deserves carin' for, after all the carin' he does for all of us…

Mr Flack's speakin' again, "Doc, we'll need you down there; Mac's gonna need medical help, you up for it?"

"Ready and willing." The Doc answers, "How're we going to do this?"

"Ropes." Mr Flack picks up the one he was holdin' previously, and kinda' shakes it at him, "Some of us'll stay up top and lower the others down. Reckon we're gonna need some brute strength down there too, get the beam shifted off of Mac." He turns to the rest of us, "Who's up for that?"

'Course, none of us are shy about volunteerin', and everyone answers him. Brings a smile to Miss Stella's face which I'm mighty glad to see, Mr Flack ain't lookin' so grim neither. He points to Lenny, Hank and myself, and I gotta confess, I get a real feelin' of pride that he's picked me…

"You three and the Doc for goin' down. Reckon that shares out our strength near enough evenly, so we'll organise it this way - me, John and Danny'll lower you down, then soon as you've got Mac free, we'll haul you back up. Then we'll go from there. That gonna be fine with everyone?"

Sounds a fine plan to me. Wish I was someone who could come up with plans like Mr Flack. Guess that's why he's Deputy. Get to thinkin' some days I'd like to be doin' somethin' real important too. Maybe some day I'll get my chance…

Danny speaks up then as he peers down the hole, "Seems pretty safe up here, but it don't look good down there." He pushes his hat back to scratch his head, "Guess you're gonna have to be real careful not to upset the loose stuff."

"We'll be careful." Lenny rumbles. Got a voice sorta' like rocks rollin' round, real deep and slow. Moves sorta' like a rock too. He ain't one for rushin', but he's real solid and dependable. He tips his hat to Miss Stella, who he towers over, even though she's a tall lady, "Don't you be frettin', Miss Stella. We'll get your Sheriff outta there no time at all."

"I got confidence in all of you." She smiles up at him and gives his arm a squeeze, even though her hand don't even meet half-way round it.

"You all ready then?" Mr Flack asks, "Who's gonna go first?"

Before I kinda' realise it, I'm volunteerin' myself…

Then the rope's tied round my waist and I'm bein' lowered into the gloom, a lantern hooked to my belt, but it's still real dark and I daren't look down, I just daren't… I'm keepin' lookin' up so I can see the faces of everyone up there, but even so, my eyes are kinda' drawn to all the broken bits of wood and rubble below me.

Seems to take an awful long time to get down, guess 'cause they're lowerin' me real carefully. Can feel the sweat on my hands and on my forehead, drippin' down my nose, itchin' me, but I can't take a hand off the rope, 'cause then I might fall… Can't be doin' that. Can't be fallin' - that'd cause nothin' but trouble for the others and for the Sheriff…

"We're gonna lower the Doc down now, Ross!" Mr Flack shouts.

"Go… go ahead! I'm almost there!" I shout back. Real glad to hear that, was gettin' a shivery sort of feelin' at bein' the only one down here, in the dark… 'Cept I ain't the only one of course! Mr Taylor's down here, and he's gonna be alive too! I know he is, I _know_ it…

The Doc's comin' down now, and I can see him sorta' bumpin' against the rubble and holdin' on grimly to the rope. Can see Miss Higgins too, standin' over the hole with her hands pressed real tight together.

"Just y'all keep a tight hold on that rope!" She says to Mr Flack, John and Danny, "And don't you be lettin' go neither, Sheldon."

Don't reckon the Doc's got any intention of that, and with a lady such as Miss Higgins tellin' him that, he's got even more reason to be careful with his life.

In no time at all, we've both reached the ground, though it sure ain't solid or steady. We're splashin' in water up to our knees, real cold water, can feel it soakin' through my boots already. Ugh, ain't gonna be a comfortable ride home like this… Don't matter though. We got more important things to be thinkin' of…

Takes us a moment to kinda' get our bearings and balance ourselves again after the journey down. Shake my head a bit to clear the dizziness, and it strikes me then what a time Miss Stella must've had climbin' all the way up. I got a real swell of admiration for her doin' that.

And 'cause of her doin' that, we're here now, and we got a man to find and bring back up, so the Doc and me shine our lanterns through all that mess and gloom…

Only takes a moment to spot where the Sheriff is; can see the faintest glow of a lantern about to die out, hangin' from a beam as we splash and scramble over and see that Mr Taylor looks in a real bad way…

"We found him, Stella!" The Doc shouts up as he crouches beside him. He's real pale, white as anythin', got his eyes closed, and there's blood on the front of his shirt; real nasty lookin' gash he got. And that beam lyin' over him ain't gonna be doin' him any good at all…

"How is he? Hawkes, tell me!" Miss Stella yells down. Glancin' up, I can see her at the edge of the hole, hair hangin' down and her face as pale as moonlight. I kind of gulp as I turn back to the Doc, who's checkin' the Sheriff over. Got a concentratin' look on his face. Looks kinda' severe when he's doin' that…

Oh, I'm hopin', I'm _hopin'… _got my fingers twisted up and crossed so many times don't know if I can get 'em undone again. Guess it's a childish sorta' thing to be doin', don't know what else to do though. Already been kinda sayin' a prayer in my head as we were ridin' here, seemed the right sorta' thing to be doin', 'cause the Sheriff's a good man…

"Hawkes! Please!" Miss Stella calls again, frantic now.

Come on Doc; please, _please_…

He takes his hand away from the Sheriff's wrist, and there's a look I can't figure on his face. Then he looks upwards, takes in a deep breath and calls out, and it's only then I realise I'm holdin' my own breath and my chest feels like it's about to burst with all this waitin…

"He's alive, Stella! He's hurt pretty bad, unconscious, but he's alive!"

Suddenly I can breathe again as cheers and a cry of relief comes from above. The Sheriff's alive! We weren't too late. He's alive!

Now all we gotta do is get him outta here…

**Wow, not quite a cliff-hanger! But please review, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know! Thanks, Lily x**


	13. Hearts Of The West

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Notes**** Chapter 13: Waiting for the rescuers to return…**

**Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help with writing, and I really appreciate knowing what you think. Thanks to _fractured-fairytale06 _for much discussion and help; _Blue Shadowdancer _for reading; _Miss Poisonous _for letting me borrow 'her' Adam in the previous chapter XD; and _afrozenheart412_ for discussion.**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 13: Hearts of the West

Lindsay:

Dear lord I'm at it again! Jumpin' up from my chair and headin' over to the window. Only been a few minutes since I was last peerin' out into the blizzard. Can't see through the condensation that's clouded up the glass again, so I'm wipin' it with my sleeve. Don't make no difference though. Can't see anythin' but snow. Same sight as there's been the last hundred or so times I've looked out. We've been waitin' for hours. Before we know it, Dawn's going to be breakin' and we ain't none of us had a sight of our beds.

There wasn't a flake of snow this morning when I woke up, but now you can't see anythin' of the world for that cold, white stuff, and I'm sick of the sight of it. It's coverin' everythin' up, every sight and sound, and the worst thing is that it's hidin' any sight or sound of my Danny and the others.

There's a gentle tutting from behind me, and I can take a good guess at what's going to be said next to me. And I ain't proved wrong.

"Sit yourself back down, Miss Lindsay!"

But I don't turn away from the window, "I'm just seein' if there's any sign of them yet, Mrs Hammerback, so I can go out and welcome them back in."

I'm strainin' my eyes to see out. Still ain't seein' anythin', even though I'm wishin' to with all my heart. Wish I knew they were all safe and sound back here.

Oh Danny, where are you? Don't keep your girl waitin'…

"They'll be all right, Miss Lindsay, they won't keep us waitin' too much longer." Seems sometimes as if Mrs Hammerback's a mind reader. Maybe that's how she manages Mr Hammerback, and stops some of his wilder ideas. It's maybe somethin' to do with her being an Englishwoman. She's got a real pretty accent, told me once she comes from a distant part of England, somewhere real wild and bordered by the sea. Seems Mr Hammerback met her there when he was travellin' round Europe in his younger days. She sure keeps him in check; maybe that's to do with her bein' English too…

"You looking out's not going to make one mite o' difference my lovely. They won't be coming back any faster with you leapin' out of your seat every few minutes like a March hare!"

I know she's right, but I can't help it. There's nothin' else I can be doin' whilst we're waitin'. We got everythin' ready for their return – fire's blazin' away merrily with a stack of wood and coal to keep it goin'; food's laid out too, most of it provided by Mrs Hammerback, who seems to have a pantry that's got magic in it as there can't be any other explanation for the endless supply of victuals that comes out of it; we got beds warmed and ready for whoever needs them; and there's a round, fat kettle hanging over the fire boiling away, 'cause everyone's gonna need some warmin' drinks inside them when they get back. Real good sound it's makin', gives me hope of a safe return for everyone.

Guess there's somethin' comfortin' about a fire and a kettle boilin'. Reminds me of back home and when I used to be allowed to sit up in the evening waitin' for Pa to return from the stables. 'Cause he always came home, even though there were times when I'd be nearly asleep in his big armchair before the front door'd rattle open and he'd come in stampin' his boots and sweepin' Ma and me up in a hug, after he'd been seein' to the well-bein' of one of our horses. Ma always kept that fire burnin' for him, she never let it die down.

I'm still starin' out of the window, but my eyes ain't seein the snow any more - they're seein' our kitchen and the fire, and the worry in Ma's eyes as she's sittin' down then standin' up to look out of the window, waitin for Pa… Guess I understand now how she felt.

I'm hearin' Mrs Hammerback's voice again, tellin' me to come sit back down, but I can't, I _can't. _It ain't only the past I'm seein' outta this window now, it's the future too. I'm seein' my own hearth, and two armchairs by the fire; one for each of us, me and Danny. And in one of them, I can see there's a child sittin' on her Pa's knee, listenin' to him tellin' a story about the time he went out into a blizzard to help rescue the Sheriff of Hattanville…

So Danny's gotta make it back alive, along with all of them, 'cause we gotta make that future happen! I hope it's soon, oh I hope it's gonna be soon! Don't think I can take much longer of this sittin' and waitin'…

"Come sit yourself here, my love." Mrs Hammerback's got a real warm and liltin', voice, and somehow it draws me away from the window, away from all I'm seein' out there, back to the present and her kindly face, all glowin' with the heat of the fire. So I walk over slowly to where she's sittin' with Mr Hammerback and Jessica on the settle, and next thing she's standin' up and two plump arms are round me and her cheek's pressed next to mine and suddenly I can't stop the tears fallin'…

"There, there now. You have yourself a good cry, it's what's needed at a time like this. Does you a power of good to let a few tears fall."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I'm splutterin' into her shoulder, "I shouldn't be cryin' like this… I'm… I'm a grown woman! And tears ain't going to help _anyone_…"

I can't stop them fallin' though; my eyes are all hot, and sorta' burnin, and my nose is tinglin' and big fat tears are trickling' down my cheeks like they ain't going to stop. Even though I'm feelin' real embarrassed and cross with myself for it, 'cause I ain't the one in any sorta' trouble. No, I'm safe and sound in the warmth whilst Sheriff Taylor and Flack and Doctor Hawkes and Stella, and… and _Danny_ are out there…Oh Danny, _Danny!_

I'm pulled tighter into Mrs Hammerback's embrace, and I'm surrounded by nothing but caring and warmth and the smell of home baking. She's got flour in her hair and up her arms, so I know it's going to be all over me, but at this moment I couldn't care less.

"Don't you be apologising for crying. I'd be worried if you weren't upset, Miss Lindsay. It's a worry to all of us, with the men folk and Miss Stella and Miss Higgins out there, but it takes courage to give in to a little cry, so you've got nothing to be ashamed about."

"Martha's right, Miss Monroe." Mr Hammerback says gently, "Not a one of us is going to criticise you for a few tears shed."

"I'm so sorry…" I gasp, "I'm feelin' so… so _helpless! _They've all gone and ridden off out there, and I'm feelin' I should be doin' more to help, and… and then I get to thinkin' about what… what if they don't… don't come back, and they're all lost in the snow…"

"They ain't gonna be lost, Lindsay!" Jessica says, and her voice kind of rises up as she says it, and I can hear the tremble of tears too, and that makes me feel real guilty. 'Cause I know she's waitin' too, for Flack, and that's got to be as hard on her as it is on me waitin' for my Danny. Waitin's the hardest thing for anyone to do in circumstances like this. Guess that's why Stella wasn't going be waitin' whilst they all went to find Sheriff Taylor. Wish I could've done the same, even though I know they needed someone back here to be waitin' for them…

But we don't know where they are! We don't even know if they're alive! It's a long ride to those works, I know it is, 'cause me and Danny rode out there one Sunday in the summer after church, and had a picnic there, just the two of us, no one else around… Oh he's gotta be comin' back! We gotta have time for more picnics to enjoy and more days spent together. We got a _wedding_ to be havin'! And you can't have a wedding without a groom and a best man, and Stella to be helpin' with my dress. The dress Danny ain't even seen yet…

Can't stop the tears now, can feel them all slippin' down my face; poor Mrs Hammerback's going to have a real damp shoulder... Got a sob risin' in my throat too, and I don't know how I'm going to stop it. Maybe if I swallow real hard, kinda' choke it back with a cough…

Mrs Hammerback's pattin' my back now, and I'm rememberin' how Ma used to do the same when I got real upset over somethin' when I was a little girl. Jessica's got her arms round me too, even though I can hear she's tryin' not to cry too as she's tellin' me it's going to be all right.

"Don't neither of you be making yourselves all upset and worried now my lovelys." Mrs Hammerback's soothin' us, "They'll all be back before too much longer, just you wait and see. I've lived many a year, and I know when a thing's so. You ask my Sidney. I got a store of confidence in every last one of them that's gone out there to bring back Mr Taylor, your Mr Daniel included, and your Mr Don, Jessica."

"Thank you, Mrs Hammerback." Jessica gulps.

"Martha's a woman who knows these things." Her husband adds, and I see the look of admiration he's givin' his wife. They make a picture; Mrs Hammerback's small and round and Mr Hammerback's tall and skinny as a fence post, as Pa would say. But the two of them kinda' fit together…

"I've got faith in Mr Daniel and Mr Don, and I know Mr Taylor has too, 'specially in his Deputy. You've got a real capable young man there, Miss Jessica, I've got no shortage of admiration for him. Got a real hearty appetite on him too, and that's something I like to see in a young fellow."

That makes me smile, even though I'm still kinda' snuffling, 'cause I know for sure Mrs Hammerback likes to see a good appetite in folks, 'specially Don Flack. And there ain't anyone who appreciates her bakin' more than he does. Many's the time I've seen her bustling out of her house and crossin' the street over to the Sheriff's office with a fresh baked cake in her hands, and returning a little while later with an empty plate. I see a lot from my schoolroom window, when I let my mind wander away from teachin'. Only from time to time though, when the children are busy writin' their lessons on their slates. It's real nice to have a few peaceful moments to let my thoughts kinda' roam out of the schoolroom. They don't roam too far though. Just across the street to Danny's place, and a little way into the future when we're going to be wedded and settin' up a place of our own…

"You hear that?" Jessica clutches hold of me, and I pull myself out of Mrs Hammerback's arms.

'Cause I hear it too. The most welcome sound I've heard in a long time; a whole lot of jingling and stamping outside. Unmistakably a group of horses and their riders, which I'm certain about, seein' as it's a sound I'm real used to hearin' from home.

It's them! They're back!

I'm flyin' across the room, and Jessica's right behind me…

"They're here! They're back!" I'm yellin and laughin' and cryin' all at the same time as I'm pushin' open the doors of the Saloon, not mindin' at all the snow that billows in.

It's them, it is! They're all in a huddle ridin' up Main Street towards us.

Jessica catches hold of my hand, "Can you see all of 'em, Lindsay? Are they all back safe and sound?"

Mrs Hammerback, her husband in her wake, rustles up beside me, clutching hold of her skirts and panting a little from hurryin', "You see my lovelys? Told you they'd be back. Now, can you see your young men and the Sheriff and all the rest?"

Quick as I can, I'm countin' those horses, 'cause I know how many went out, and I know the names of 'em all too and who they belong to… In front's Mr Ross on his horse, Hickory alongside John Carter on Cooper; then comes the young Texan lady on her horse - don't know the name of him, but I can see he's a fine beast none the less; then Flack, sittin' on Flapjack - real good name for a horse the colour of his, a lovely golden brown Arab. He's got the Sheriff's horse, Blue, trotting beside him on a short rein, and he's followed by Lenny Cody on Bobby…

But where's Hank Gibson and Doctor Hawkes? Where's the Sheriff and Stella? Where's _Danny?_ I can't see them! Oh my hand's risin' to my throat, and I can feel my heart bangin'… Jessica's already dashin' across the snow as the little group rides up. Flack's the first to dismount, and in a second, he's swept her up into his arms and they don't let go of each other…

But Danny, where's my Danny?

Feelin' like my legs are going to give way, I'm runnin'. I gotta know, I gotta find out…

"Danny!" I'm callin', and my boots are slippin' in the snow, but I pick myself up and carry on, "_Danny! _Danny,where are you?"

Then Flack's got a hold of my arm, and's speakin' words I almost can't believe…

"Danny's fine, Lindsay. He's _fine_. He's a little way back with Hank, the Doc, Stella and the Sheriff, who they're bringin' real slow and careful." Suddenly I can't stop the tears again, even as he's givin' me a hug, then I'm pullin' away from him 'cause finally I got a sight of my Danny.

He's _safe. _

Can't stop myself smilin' in relief at seein' him sittin' on Biscuit, but I can't smile for long, 'cause it don't take me a second to realise that they ain't all safe and sound yet. Stella's beside Danny, ridin' Diamond, the Palomino who belongs to Mrs Angell; but she looks close to fallin' out of the saddle…

And then there's the Sheriff, and oh my; my hand's flyin' to my mouth, 'cause he don't look good at all, slumpin' forward even though Hank Gibson's propping him up in front of him; he's kinda' got the reins wrapped round one arm, whilst with the other he's holdin' onto the Sheriff. Doctor Hawkes is ridin' alongside on Bill, helpin' support him too. Moments later, they're stopped and surrounded, then Hank and Don take charge of the Sheriff, as Doctor Hawkes lends a hand to Stella. I'm runnin' over now, and I can't help but gasp in horror at the state of all of 'em; everyone of them's exhausted, white-faced and sorta' battered lookin'…

Then Danny reaches me, and his arms are holdin' me so close I can't hardly breathe. But I don't care because he's safe. _He's safe._

"Hope I didn't get you worried, Lindsay." He says as he pulls back to look at me, still with his hands holdin' real tight to mine, and at that I got a sob and a laugh sorta' mixin' together.

"Only a little worried, Danny Messer," I tell him, touchin' the scrape he's got down his cheek that weren't there when he left, "Knew you wouldn't be lettin' a small thing like a blizzard defeat you..." For a moment longer there ain't anythin' else around us and even the snow don't seem to be fallin' any more, 'cause all I can see are his eyes gazin' into mine and all I can feel are his hands wrapped around me. The moment can't last though, we ain't the only ones out here, and we got folks who're needin' our help.

Hank and Don are carryin' Mr Taylor between them, towards the Saloon. His eyes are closed and he's white as anythin'. Got a bandage of some kind wrapped around his chest too and there's a spot of red in the middle. He looks hurt bad…

"Danny, what happened? How is he? How'd you get him out?"

He squeezes my hand, "I'll tell you all 'bout it later, Lindsay. The Doc's gonna' be seein' to him." He takes his hat off and rubs his hand through his hair before replacin' it, "We've had a time of it gettin' him outta there, I'm tellin' you." I see then the worry that's kinda' been drawn into his face, and the smudges and bruises all over him.

Followin' close behind the Sheriff, are Stella and Doctor Hawkes with his arm round her. Then they stop for a moment and I hear her tellin' him in no uncertain terms, even as she's swayin' with exhaustion, that she ain't leaving Mr Taylor's side till she knows he's all right. I glance at Danny with my eyebrows raised and he shakes his head.

"Don't know how she's still standin', but I ain't arguin' with her; even the Doc and Flack have given up on that. Should've seen her when we got him back up, clutched him to her and wouldn't let go… If she says she's stayin' with him, she's stayin' with him." And then he wraps his arm round my waist, "And I'm stayin' with _you_, Miss Monroe. Reckon the thought o' you waitin' helped me back home…"

Then he clears his throat, and sounds sorta' gruff as he says, "Come on, we're gonna be the last ones out here, and in case you ain't noticed, it's still snowin'. Can't have you catchin' cold, let's get in the warmth."

Snow and the cold ain't a problem though, not now I got my Danny back at my side. But I let him lead me inside, 'cause I reckon we'll be even warmer together by the fire.

Soon as we get inside, I'm caught up in the bustle of servin' food and hot coffee to everyone; Mrs Hammerback's movin' like mercury makin' sure everyone's got enough food and heat from the fire. Only ones who aren't down here are Doctor Hawkes and Stella, 'cause they're still with Mr Taylor. Flack and Hank came down soon as they'd got him upstairs. Poor Flack's lookin' drawn and worried; lost all the pink in his cheeks and the twinkle in his eyes; but there's just a flicker as he catches hold of Jessica's hand and draws her close to him.

There ain't much mood for talkin', not until we get some better news on the Sheriff and gradually everyone falls silent. Then people start driftin' back towards their own homes and hearths till me, Danny, Flack, Jessica, Miss Higgins and the Hammerbacks are left. I'm fightin' to stay awake with the warmth of the fire and the tickin' of the big old clock hangin' over the mantelpiece; feel my head noddin' onto Danny's shoulder every few moments…

Next thing I know, Danny's shoulder's shifted, and I look up to see Doctor Hawkes comin' down the stairs. We all stand up, and I rub the sleep out of my eyes.

"What's the news, Doc?" Flack asks, stridin' over to him.

Hawkes mops his forehead with a handkerchief, "I've cleaned his wounds, bandaged him up, and got him comfortable as he can be in bed. He's got a couple of broken ribs too, but rest is going to be the best thing for that. I'm hopin' for a good recovery as long as he don't get any infection in that deep cut."

"What about Stella?" I ask, 'cause I'm worried about her too, "Where is she?"

A look of exasperation appears on the Doctor's face, "That's something I could use a little help with from you, Miss Monroe, and you too Flack."

I glance over at Flack; both of us are a fair bit puzzled, but we follow the Doctor up the stairs and into one of the rooms off the landing. He pushes the door open and stands back against it as we enter. Lyin' in the bed, eyes closed tight, a night shirt mostly hidin' the bandages round his chest, is Mr Taylor.

He ain't alone though, 'cause Hattanville's Saloon owner is the other occupant of the room; sleeping as if for a wager.

"I went to go get some water, came back a few minutes later, and found her like this." Hawkes sighs.

"Have you tried wakin' her?" I ask, "She can't stay here like this!"

For one thing, even in these circumstances, I guess it ain't the proper thing for an unmarried lady to be spendin' the night in the room with a gentleman; even if said gentleman is unconscious, and the Sheriff of Hattanville. And for another thing, she ain't in the most comfortable position for sleepin'; she's half kneelin' on the floor beside the bed, with her head lyin' on the covers; one hand's beneath her cheek, and the other's laid over the Sheriff's.

Sure is a sight to make my heart feel a pang, to see how much she cares for him, but I've always been a practical thinker too, and I know that if she stays like that, she's going to get no end of stiffness in her legs and neck. Ain't no way we can leave her like that.

"I tried, and failed." Hawkes replies, "She's as stubborn asleep as she is awake." At that I can't help but smile. Flack however only frowns, steps over, and shakes her shoulder.

"Come on, Stell. Can't be sleepin' here." He waits a few moments and then shakes her again, "Stella! Wake up!"

But she don't stir, despite all his attempts and in a minute or so he gives up and stands lookin' down at her, arms akimbo, with a glower on his face.

"Any suggestions?" He looks at me and Hawkes, "'Cause she ain't spendin' the night on the floor. Mac'd never forgive me if he found out…"

Part of me wants to tell him to carry her to her own bed, but another part of me knows how I'd feel if it were Danny lyin' there and someone took me away from him without me knowin', so I wrack my brains for somethin' else to suggest…

"How about this?" I say as an idea strikes me, "We fix up a mattress and some blankets for her here. That way she'll be comfortable and she don't have to leave the Sheriff."

Hawkes gives me a smile, "Sounds a good idea to me, and that way I can look after both of them, as I was planning on staying up with Taylor anyhow."

"You sure you're good for that, Doc? You been up a good few hours yourself already, not to mention your efforts in the rescue."

Hawkes holds up his hand, "That's the way of being a Doctor; I'd rather lose a few hours sleep than lose a patient. Just fetch me some coffee, spare me a few of Mrs Hammerback's sandwiches, and I'll be fine."

"Whatever you want. I'll ask Miss Higgins to bring you some up." Flack says with a grin that I could swear makes the Doctor blush, "Now lets see to some blankets."

It don't take us long to hunt down some bedding and set it up. Real gently then, we move Stella over to the makeshift bed, get her boots and outdoor things off and make her as comfortable as possible. She don't wake up for a second; not even when I accidentally drop her cloak on the floor and it kinda' clatters. Guess she must have a couple of her pistols in there…

Soon as we've made sure she and the Sheriff are safe for the night, and Hawkes is settled in a rocking chair with a blanket over his knees, Flack and me head downstairs. There we find the Hammerbacks propping each other up on the settle and snorin' in unison; Jessica and Miss Higgins asleep in an armchair each; and Danny dozing in another. We grin at each other at the sight, before Flack tiptoes over to the coffee pot, givin' Jessica's cheek a caress as he passes her.

"I'll take the coffee up myself." He nods towards Miss Higgins, "Hope the Doc ain't too disappointed about that."

I give him a grin as he heads back upstairs, then I realise just how tired I am myself. Don't think I can even make it home… But I reckon there's enough space for two in that big ol' armchair Danny's sittin' in, so I squeeze myself in next to him; gotta make sure the two of us don't get cold if the fire goes out.

"That you, Lindsay?" Danny murmurs and his arm slips round my shoulders, "Was wonderin' where you were. Was gonna tell you 'bout what happened… Gonna tell you…"

His head droops, and I stroke his hair, feelin' my eyes closin' as I do so.

"S'all right, Danny. Tell me tomorrow… 'Cause you're back now and everything's fine…" I'm driftin' now, real warm and peaceful… Just gotta say a few more words to him, "We got all the time we need for tellin'… You're back home, safe with me… Everything's fine… You're home… _Everyone's _home."

**Hope you enjoyed that! Please review and let me know; poor Adam didn't get too many last chapter : ( Still time to review that though, and this one of course! Thanks, Lily x**


	14. A Poet And A Gentleman

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author**** Lily Moonlight**

**Notes**** Chapter 14: The morning after the rescue; is everyone safe?**

**Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help with writing, and I love knowing what you think. Thanks to _fractured-fairytale06,_ _Blue Shadowdancer _(thank you for reading, helpful comments and updates!) _iluvCSI4ever, sarramaks, afrozenheart412 _(thank you for the image of Mac and his shirt collar!) and _Forest Angel _for discussion; and to _chrysalis escapist_ for extra thoughts. The chapter title isn't exactly from a Western film, but it fitted :D**

**For _Miss Poisonous _and _afrozenheart412_**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 14: A Poet And A Gentleman

Danny:

Got somethin' bright shinin' in my eyes, and somethin' warm and soft pressed against me. Still ain't opened my eyes yet, but I realise I got my arm around someone. And I reckon it can only be one someone. Least I hope it's who I think it is. Could be kinda' awkward if fr'instance I had my arm around Mrs Hammerback…

"Lindsay?" I'm whisperin', as I got a memory of lots of people sleepin' last night, so guess I oughtn't to be the one to wake 'em all. We were in the Saloon, I remember, but surely I ain't been here all night.

Have I?

Managed to get my eyes wide open now, and yep, sure enough I'm recognisin' the Saloon and the main bar. Can't be mornin' already though, can it? Guess it must be, 'cause that light out there's gotta be the sun, and sun shinin' through windows is a sure sign of mornin'…

Geez, that sun sure is bright, makin' me squint and my eyes water. Ain't had a glimpse of sun since me and Lindsay were sippin' sodas here only yesterday morning'. Seems like forever ago, after everythin' we been through. I ain't ever gonna forget last night, and the bravery of everyone. I know Lindsay was wantin' to know all about it, and soon as she's awake, I'm gonna be relatin' the whole adventure to her. Reckon Hammerback's gonna be wantin' to record the whole tale in his Chronicles of Hattanville, as he calls everythin' he's got written down in those great big ledgers he keeps. Reckon he's a clever man, got the power of words, powerful things to have, words.

I'm rubbin' my eyes now, strugglin' to sit up, and blinkin' in the light. Maybe the blizzard's stopped seein' as the sun's come out, which'd be a sweet thing indeed. Got a beam of sunlight shinin' right in my eyes, so I shift a bit, real careful though, to see if I'm the only one awake. Seems like the whole town's in here, well, a crowd of us anyhow… All right, maybe only a few then, as I'm countin' seven, includin' myself. Don't know what Miss Stella's gonna think 'bout people sleepin' in her Saloon. Guess she won't mind though, given everythin' that's happened.

Wonder where she is? Last I saw of her, she and the Doc were headin' up the stairs to see to the Sheriff. Hope they're all right. Guess I'll get myself movin' and go check on folks. Wonder what time it is? Wonder if it's too early to be thinkin' about findin' some breakfast. Sure could do with somethin' in my stomach, got a real empty feelin' in there, even after all the sandwiches I managed to find room for last night. Managed to drag a few outta Flack's hands, huh, that man's got a bigger appetite than a bear. Tell him that sometimes. 'Course he tries to maintain his dignity and tells me it's 'cause he's got the strength of a bear, and needs plenty of food to keep himself goin'. Can't say I'm entirely believin' the man.

Guess just _thinkin'_ of food though is no good, I gotta be findin' some. Reckon Miss Stella must have a few items of nourishment in her kitchen, sure she won't be offended if I make myself up a little somethin'.

There's a sigh and mutterin' at my side as I'm decidin' my course of action, and Lindsay's eyelashes are flutterin' against her cheeks. Can't make out exactly what she's mutterin' about; somethin' about weddings and flowers and dresses. Women's things, things I'm best not knowin' about. Kinda' scares me, all these things that women seem to think a weddin' can't happen without. Seems to me all you really need for a weddin' is two people who love each other, and the people they love there to celebrate with 'em. If I had my way, I'd be happy walkin' down the aisle just as I am now, in my honest every day get up. Don't see I need to be wearin' anythin' fancy. That ain't me. And Lindsay, well, I'd be marryin' her whatever she's wearin'. Dress or no dress…

Whoah! Where'd _that_ thought come from? Best keep those kinda' thoughts hidden away till we're safely wed, 'cause all I was meanin' was that I don't care what she's wearin'; it ain't important to me. Lindsay's what's important; she's the one I'm marryin', not a dress or flowers or any other of the hundred things she's been thinking' and worryin' about. She's the one I want to be spendin' the rest of my life with.

Guess all the trimmings are important to Lindsay though, so I ain't gonna make a fuss, and I'll get into my suit without any protestin'. Flack's gonna be makin' sure of that anyhow. Got him to choose me somethin' smart to wear, 'cause he knows about these things. I'm gonna do everythin' I can to make this the best day of our lives, and as long as we got our family and friends there, that's what it's gonna be.

It's a day that's comin' closer and closer though, and it's causin' me a fair amount of terror. Almost as much terror as goin' down into that dark hole at the gunpowder works to help pull the Sheriff to safety. Man, I'm shakin' still at the memory of it, 'specially that moment when… But I ain't gonna think about it for now, and thinkin' on, it mightn't be the best thing to be tellin' Lindsay all the details. Can't believe we're all still here and still alive, and we got the Sheriff outta there. Gotta hope though he ain't gonna suffer any lastin' damage from all this, nor Miss Stella.

Maybe I oughtta go and do what else I was thinkin' of and go check on the Sheriff, ask about Miss Stella, and exchange a word with the Doc. Always enjoy a conversation with him. Reckon he'll have been up all night. Feel kinda bad 'bout fallin' asleep, couldn't keep my eyes open though, soon as I knew Lindsay was safe beside me, I was off into sleep and dreams. Made a real difference though, feel a whole lot better and refreshed this mornin'. Guess I can try and persuade the Doc to catch a few hours sleep himself, and I'll take over keepin' an eye on the Sheriff.

I'm gettin' up real careful now outta this chair, slidin' myself up over the arm, 'cause Lindsay's still sleepin'. Don't wanna disturb her, but she's got her head restin' on my chest, and I'm gonna have to move her real delicately. Guess that leaves me in somethin' of a dilemma though, 'cause it feels real warm and comfortable with her there, feels _right_, like I'm kinda keepin' her safe beside me. Guess that's what gettin' married's about; keepin' Lindsay safe and at my side. Not 'cause I gotta do that, or that Lindsay's a woman who needs takin' care of, 'cause she ain't, she's a real strong lady. Guess it's 'cause I want to do that, and maybe it's 'cause she wants to do the same with me.

I'm lookin' across the room as I'm thinkin' all this, and I'm strokin' Lindsay's hair; real soft it is under my fingers. Can see Flack leanin' against the armchair opposite, sittin' on the floor with long 'ol legs stickin' out in front of him. Got his hat down over his eyes and his head's tipped back, mouth wide open. Reckon he might even be snorin'. Yep, that was a snore for certain. Ha, hope he don't go wakin' Miss Jessica up with all that noise, seein' as she's curled up in that same armchair above him, and her arm's draped over his shoulder. Reckon it's a sight to soften even a tough old heart like mine.

I ain't ashamed to admit, there ain't much of a romantic in me; fact Flack once said somethin' along the lines of me not havin' a romantic bone in my body, and he might've been right about that. I ain't skilled at romance, though I'm tryin', with a helpin' hand from Mr Don Flack. Reckon I'm gonna give some poetry a try though, all the way back from the gunpowder works, I was tryin' to take my mind off of the blizzard by thinkin' 'bout Lindsay and composing verse for her. Ain't got no further than a few lines though;

_Roses are red _

_My Lindsay's eyes are brown _

_It's gotta be said _

_She don't make me frown._

Which maybe ain't the best poetry in the world, and certainly ain't a patch on Mr William Shakeyspar, the dude Hammerback's often quotin'. Kinda like the sound his words make, guess he's got the power of words too. Wonder where he lives? Maybe I could write him a letter or somethin', askin' him to put together a few verses for my Lindsay. Reckon that'd be somethin' to please her. Guess I'll ask Hammerback when he's awake.

Anyways, I ain't an expert at poetry or romance, so I'm grateful to Flack for all the nudges he's given, remindin' me to do stuff for Lindsay. Reckon he's somethin' of a romantic at heart, even if he wouldn't say as much himself, got a streak of modesty has Flack. But I reckon Miss Jessica will have been happy with the pot of roses he planted and grew for her in the shape of a heart for her birthday. Never seen a smile like it when he presented it to her. Don't reckon he was meanin' to have an audience, however, I'd happened to step into the Sheriff's office when I'd seen them goin' in there, after the Sheriff had sallied over to the Saloon. Wasn't, of course, intendin' to impose my company on them, just wanted to ask a question of Flack, that was all, about a bet. Had no intention of disturbin' them or spyin' to see what it was Flack had been hidin' away in the Sheriff's office for weeks. No sir.

Can't say they were happy to see me poppin' my head through the door and callin' out a cheery greetin', not if Flack's expression was anythin' to go by. Didn't stay long though, only long enough for him to kinda' head towards me with something' of a threatenin' look in his eyes before I disappeared back outta the door, tellin' him I'd collect his dollars for the bet later. Fact is, I guess I was a little unfair to the man and his lady, felt kinda' guilty afterwards, so I made it up to him by buyin' him a beer in the Saloon that evenin', and givin' Miss Jessica a box of candies that my Aunt Dulcie had sent me the Christmas before.

So, Flack's a romantic, and I reckon even the Sheriff has somethin' of a romantic heart beatin' inside him, underneath that stern exterior. Though it's only Miss Stella who's able to find it. I've seen him many a time takin' over little parcels to the Saloon and posies of flowers that then appear at the end of the bar, along with a blush in the Saloon owner's cheeks. Seen how he's always got his arm through hers when they're walkin' out, and the adorin' looks between them none of us have ever failed to notice, even before they were officially courtin'. All of us remember too the state he was in the time she was thrown off her horse. Never seen a man so sick with worry as the Sheriff was then. Accordin' to the Doc, he was in a worse state than she was; didn't sleep for a second and didn't eat neither. For weeks afterwards he was in the Saloon mornin' and night, followin' her about, hardly leavin' her side; which she sure had a few words to say about. But if that ain't devotion to the woman you love, then I don't know what is.

'Course, Miss Stella's the same, lookin' after him and all; makes him somethin' for lunch and dinner everyday, and he comes over regular as clockwork to the Saloon to eat it. One time when he didn't - I happened to notice as I was doin' some repairs to the Saloon roof - she marched over to the Sheriff's office and after a few heated words, marched him straight back with her. Only thing we all wonder about now is when the Sheriff's gonna be askin' the question I've already asked my Lindsay, even though I gotta confess, it took us a fair amount of time to be gettin' betrothed. Gotta happen some time soon though for the Sheriff and his lady, 'specially after last night. That took some devotion and courage for Miss Stella to do what she did to save him. Gotta hope he gets the chance to be tellin' her his thanks, and askin' her what all of us think he needs to.

Brings back memories though, thinkin' about questions. That was some question; askin a girl to marry you. One of the hardest I've ever asked, and I've asked plenty of questions of girls in my life. Ain't always had the politest answer from 'em, but that's not to be thinkin' about at this time. I've had some times in my past I ain't proud of, and times when I ain't behaved entirely like a gentleman, but since Sheriff Taylor gave me a chance in town, and since I met my Lindsay, reckon I'm on my way to bein' one.

Gentlemanly thing to be doin' now of course will be to go on up and offer some refreshment to the Doc, so I'll try again to move Lindsay without disturbin' her... There. Managed to get her head on a cushion instead of on my chest. Missin' the feel of her there already, but it had to be done. She's murmurin' again, but her eyes are still closed, so I'll creep up those stairs in my stockinged feet so as not to wake her or the others.

Flack ain't the only one snorin' though, so maybe I don't need to be so cautious about tiptoeing, 'cause with the sound comin' from the Hammerbacks, any noise little ol' me makes is gonna be drowned out by them! What is it with folks in this town and snorin'? Least my Lindsay ain't one to snore. Even the new arrival in town, Miss Higgins, is sleepin' in her armchair with her mouth open and a surprisingly loud snore for a small woman comin' from it.

Still, I make sure I'm as quiet as a mouse as I make my way up the stairs, leavin' the sleepin' beauties behind me. Stairs are kinda' creaky though, and I pause for a moment, holdin' my breath after one particularly loud creak. There ain't no sound from below though, so I carry on.

Ain't gonna be a simple task to find the room the Doc and his patient are in, I realise after gettin' to the top of the stairs, and seein' Miss Stella sure has a lot of rooms in her Saloon. So I start openin' doors one after another and peerin' into 'em. Wonder what she keeps in 'em all? Pistols maybe, and bullets; for the pistols. Ain't seein' any though. Just furniture, or nothin' much. Huh. Gotta confess I feel kinda disappointed, was hopin' maybe to be discoverin' somethin' interestin', secret stores of treasure maybe. Or weapons…

Now this ain't gentlemanly behaviour though, goin' and lookin' in a nosy manner at things that ain't mine, so I knock on the last few doors, real gently, and don't go in when there's no answer. 'Course it's the very last door along the landin' I knock on before I hear the Doc's voice answerin' me.

I push the door open to see him sittin' in a rockin' chair by the fire. Looks fair exhausted, real weary look in his eyes, and he's sorta' saggin' in the chair, with a book almost fallin' from his hand. There's a few candles set around the room, and enough light to see by with the sun comin' in through the curtains. He's got an empty plate and mug at his side, which I'll offer to fill up for him in a minute.

"Mornin', Doc." I say in a whisper. Real proud of my whisperin' skills, can whisper loud enough for folks to hear me the other end of a room, so Lindsay tells me. The Doc makes a sorta' shushing sound, so I've maybe been sorta' loud, and lower my voice accordingly, "How's the Sheriff doin'?"

"Sleeping on and off." The Doc replies with a frown, "But he's been restless the last couple of hours, so I'm keeping a careful eye."

Lookin' over at him, I can see him shiftin a bit, and his face is flushed, got sweat shinin' on his forehead too. Hope he ain't headin' for a fever after all that time lyin' in near freezin' water.

So I know where and how the Sheriff is, but one other person still ain't accounted for.

"What about Miss Stella?" I ask, and at that question, the Doc raises his eyebrows and points to the other side of the bed. Takin' a step further into the room, I see the situation. Lyin' on a mattress and pillows, covered over with blankets is the lady in question. One arm's kinda' flung out to the side towards the bed, and her face is turned that way too. Looks a little pale, but she's sleepin' peacefully enough. Breathin' sorta' heavily though; surely _she_ ain't snorin' and all? Nah, Hattanville's Saloon Owner wouldn't be snorin'…

"She all right?" I ask, and the Doc rubs his eyes, his book droppin' to the floor.

"Nothing wrong with her that a good long rest won't fix. In an ideal situation, she ought to stay in bed for a day at least to recover, but I don't see that happening somehow, even if I suggest it. Just a feeling I got." He gives me a wry smile, and I grin back. Both of us know the dislikin' both the Sheriff and Miss Stella seem to have for any kind of fuss made about their health. Can't see the sense in it myself; if I got an ailment, I go see the Doc, and take whatever he tells me I oughtta be takin', 'cause he's the one who's had all kinds of schoolin'. That ain't to say though I'm fond of takin' sick, 'cause I ain't, and even when I do get sick, which ain't often, then I'd rather not have anyone makin' a fuss of me. 'Cept if it's fuss in the shape of Lindsay puttin' a coolin' cloth on my forehead and makin' me up one of the special recipes she got for invalids, such as chicken and noodle soup and lemon puddin'. Man, that stuff's good. It's worth gettin' sick just to have a taste of 'em and a feel of Lindsay's soothin' fingers on my skin… Like I say, I try not to get sick too often, but sometimes it's unavoidable.

Best be askin' the Doc what I was gonna ask him though, "You want a break from sittin here? Don't mind takin' over whilst you get some rest."

He shakes his head, and indicates the Sheriff, "Appreciate the offer, Danny, but I'd rather stay put for the time being, till I'm happier with how things are looking. However." He adds with a grin, "If you feel like putting a few sandwiches on my plate and a drink of coffee in my cup, then I won't be complaining."

"You got it, Doc." I take the plate and cup from him, and then hesitate a moment, 'cause I can see there's a worry in his face, despite his grin, "You sure everything's all right with the Sheriff?"

The Doc lifts his shoulders, and his grin fades, "I'm hoping so, but after all that time trapped, and the injuries he suffered, he's not out of danger yet. Just got to hope he isn't taking a fever."

"Well, he's got the best man around to be lookin' after him if he does." Is all I can think to say to try and give him some reassurance. He's a man who takes his profession more than seriously, and I've seen the pain it causes him if he ever loses a patient, 'cause in the way of the world, that happens now and again. The Doc ain't gonna be able to save everyone. Sometimes folks are just too old or sick, or too tired of life to heal…

But that _ain't_ gonna be the case for the Sheriff. No way! Not with the Doc healin' him, and with Miss Stella to be keepin' him safe. Got an image in my mind now, somethin' Lindsay said to me once about 'em, that even if the Sheriff was ever taken up into heaven, Miss Stella would be draggin' him right back down again by his shirt collar. Gotta hope it don't come to that though. Hattanville needs its Sheriff, 'specially with this mess the railroad company's gotten us into.

Guess I'd better get the Doc his refreshments though, do my bit that way, so I take his cup and plate and head back downstairs with the promise to be back shortly.

Got a pleasant surprise when I reach the bottom of the stairs, 'cause my Lindsay's awake and waitin' for me; greetin' me with a smile and a kiss that's warmer than the sun floodin' into the Saloon. Almost drop what's in my hands and I break away from her with some reluctance, but I got a duty to do. Still, ain't nothing' wrong with havin' a little help to carry it out. So it's with Lindsay at my side that I tiptoe into the kitchen of the Saloon, and set the kettle on the range to boil up, and hunt about in the pantry for some food. Soon got some slices of pie and hunks of bread and cheese, and Lindsay arranges them real nice on the plate.

"You takin' them up, Danny or shall I?" She asks, and still tryin' to be a gentleman, I tell her I'll do it, so she promises to wait for me in the kitchen so we can sit in the warmth and I can tell her the story of the rescue of the Sheriff.

I hurry back up to the Doc and pass him his meal, tell him everyone's fine and well downstairs, and then tiptoe fast as I can back down to the kitchen.

Strange though, as I'm approachin' the door, there's a sort of muffled gasp from behind it…

"_Lindsay!_" I hiss, feelin' a sudden fear. When there ain't no immediate answer, I bust through to be met by the sight of someone I hoped I'd never see again. And he's got a hold of my Lindsay!

**Couldn't go very long without another cliff-hanger! Sorry this has been a little slow to be updated. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'd love to know what you think, reviews always welcome. Thanks, Lily x**


	15. Ambush At Hattanville

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author**** Lily Moonlight**

**Notes**** Chapter 15: Secrets and discoveries…**

**Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help with writing, and I love knowing what you think. Thanks to: _Brinchen86_ for a fantastic manip; _Blue Shadowdancer _for putting up with my nagging; to _Catherine_ and _Michelle _for your reviews; everyone who has offered their thoughts and discussed the story with me; _sarramaks, iluvCSI4ever, Forest Angel, chrysalis escapist, fractured-fairytale06, Brinchen86 _and_ afrozenheart412._**

**Sorry this has taken so long; oneshot ideas took over, feel free to read them too! **

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 15: Ambush At Hattanville

Flack:

The smell wakes me up first. Unmistakeable. Though I gotta say, smell ain't the right word to describe the heavenly aroma that's driftin' up my nostrils. I take a deep sniff and savour the scent of ambrosia. If Mrs Hammerback ain't awake and cookin' one of the finest breakfasts a man could eat, then I ain't the Deputy of Hattanville. 'Cause this Deputy's got the finest tuned nose for smellin' out the best home cookin' in the state. Even if I do say so myself.

Course, it ain't no good just takin' a _sniff _of food; that'd be doin' Mrs Hammerback's cookin a real discourtesy. Hers is food that a man's obliged to _eat_. Plenty of it too. First thing I gotta do before eatin' though is to open my eyes, so as to see the food. Ain't no good eatin' with your eyes closed, and riskin' the danger of missin' your mouth. I call it a sin to let good food go to waste, 'specially food the quality of Mrs Hammerback's. Man, but if her chocolate and caramel and syrup pancakes ain't a sinful thing first thing in the mornin', then I don't know what is. But a man's gotta have a few little sins he can ask pardon for.

Now, I got my eyes open, but they're still sorta' blurry. Seems to be a face floatin' in front of mine… Geez, I hope I ain't droolin' at the thought of all this food. Can't have anyone seein' the Deputy of Hattanville droolin' in his sleep. Word'd get around town faster than Messer comes up with things to be layin' bets on. Which reminds me, I still owe him for a certain wager on a certain Saloon Owner. Guess I know it ain't entirely the right thing to be doin, and if Stell ever finds out, she's likely gonna find imaginative ways to kill me and Messer, and everyone else who's got a stake in this, but I'm confident she ain't ever gonna find out. Ain't no reason for her to be suspectin' Messer's got a bet goin' on the number of pistols about her person.

Wonder if Mac knows how many?

But a man's thoughts can run away with him first thing in the mornin', before he's even opened his eyes properly. I'm blinkin', still tryin' to clear my vision. Guess the thought of breakfast's gonna help me wake up and focus. And man, if that ain't a fair sight to wake up to. My poor eyes must be blessed, to see the sight of Miss Jessica Angell coming into focus. Reckon God must think I've done somethin' real special to be deservin' of this. 'Specially when I see what she's got in her hands.

"Mornin' Don." She says, and my heart beats a little faster with somethin' I can only describe as love at hearin' her speak my name and hand me a plate heaped up with breakfast items; bacon, eggs, fried potatoes, ham, toast, beans, mushrooms, pancakes… This has gotta be a good sign for today bein' a whole lot better than yesterday! Reckon a man can face most things with a good breakfast inside of him, and a good woman at his side.

"Mornin' Miss Jessica." I say, and scramble to my feet. Lookin' round, I'm seein' we're the only ones in the room. Guess the Hammerbacks and Miss Higgins are in the kitchen. I'm guessin' Messer and Lindsay've been up and about already, seein' to their own affairs. Nothin' inappropriate I'm hopin'. Otherwise the senior ladies of the town (the ones who organise the quilting parties that Stell, for some reason I can't fathom, lets them hold in the Saloon) will have plenty to say on the matter. However, the pair of 'em are old enough to know better, and guess they can be trusted to stay outta trouble. Well, Lindsay can; Messer on the other hand seems to attract trouble like hornets to a honey jar. So I'm hopin' the guiding hand of his fiance's gonna keep him on the straight and narrow. Reckon she's been a steadyin' influence on him, right from the day they met.

Remember that day well, as it happens. Only a couple years ago, in Sinclair's Hardware Store. The both of them arrived at the same time, and Messer decided to play the gentleman and hold the door open for her, which led to conversation between 'em. Then led almost immediately to conflict between 'em, when Messer made an unwise remark about Lindsay's home state. Seem to recall the term _'Cowgirl'_ bein' used, and then the sound of Miss Monroe's shopping basket connectin' with Mr Messer's head. Things improved though, and now the Hardware Store's where they're usually to be found on a Saturday mornin' for shopping, right before they head on over to the Saloon for sodas. Sometimes me and Miss Jessica meet up with 'em there and enjoy spendin' time together. On a rare occasion, Mac sallies over, and he and Stell pull up chairs and join us. Gotta say, reckon it does Mac good, takin' a bit of time to relax like that. He always keeps us entertained too, with stories of his time in the Windy City of Chicago, and all the places he lived before makin' his way out to Hattanville.

Best part of those times though is sittin' next to Miss Jessica, and sometimes lettin' our hands meet each other under the table. Got a pang in my heart now though, as I'm smilin' at the lady herself, and acceptin' the plate of breakfast from her, 'cause I can't help but be thinkin' for how much longer we're gonna have the pleasure of sodas at the Star Saloon, or shoppin' at Sinclair's. If the Railroad Company get their way, and extend their line right the way through the town, then it ain't gonna be for much longer at all! Hattanville's in a whole heap o' trouble, and even the sun shinin' into the Saloon ain't takin' away from the fact that we gotta be facin' it today.

For some reason though, as I'm thinkin' about trouble, Messer's face is floatin' in front of my mind. Seems to be somethin' about Messer and trouble. 'Course, followin' the adventures of last night, I could be justified in sayin' that there's somethin' about Mac and Stell that also seems to attract trouble, though I ain't ever gonna say that to their faces. Can just picture the witherin' look Mac'd give me, and feel the heat of the glare Stella'd be sendin' my way. Best keepin' my mouth shut on that opinion, though it don't stop me thinkin' it.

However, trouble or not, whatever happens and whatever sort of trouble they, or Messer, get themselves into, they're my friends, and if they need help, I ain't gonna hesitate to offer it. 'Cause they ain't ever held back in offerin' to help me or anyone else in the town.

Guess I was _real_ mad though at Mac and Stell last night for ridin' off without enough consideration for their safety, or the danger they were puttin' themselves in. Danger the rest of us faced as well. But someone was lookin' down on us last night, 'cause I can't think of any other reason how we all got outta that situation alive…

Reckon eatin' breakfast's a powerful good way of gettin' thoughts straight in your head. Can feel all this food doin' me no end of good as it's makin' its way into my stomach. Gotta be some kind of connection there, between a man's stomach and his head. Maybe his heart too. 'Cause I'm lookin' at Miss Jessica as I'm thinkin' that, and she's smilin' at me with a real beautiful smile.

"Enjoyin' your breakfast?" She asks, "Made sure I put plenty of everythin' on your plate, 'cause I know how important breakfast is to a man. Ma always makes sure Pa's got plenty inside his stomach before he starts his day."

My mouth's kinda' full, so I can only nod enthusiastically at her, and hope she catches my meanin' - that I'm enjoyin' the breakfast she's given me like no other breakfast I've had before.

Guess she understands, 'cause there's a smile and a wink in her eye as she speaks, "So you like the way I served up your food then, Deputy Flack?"

Hope the heat I'm feelin' in my face ain't visible to her. Gotta say, the thought of havin' breakfast served up to me every mornin' by Miss Jessica is a pleasant thought indeed. And I ain't just thinkin' 'bout the food.

It's a thought that leads me on to all sorts of thinkin' about the future. Strangely enough, it's a thought that takes me back to Messer, seein' as how he's gone and done what none of us thought he'd ever do, and asked Lindsay to become his wife. Seems there's matchin' up goin' on all over town; as soon as the moment's right, reckon I got a question to ask Miss Jessica. Askin' her if she'll do me the honour of becomin' Mrs Donald Flack. 'Cause breakfasts or no breakfasts (though I sure hope _that_ ain't ever gonna be the case) I hope she's wantin' to spend her life with me, as Lindsay and Messer are agreein' to do with each other. Takes a certain courage though, and confidence, to be askin' a lady that.

Guess that's the reason Mac ain't asked Stell the question yet. Not that he's lackin' in courage, far from it; fact I'd go so far as to say he's got the most courage of any man I've ever known. Confident too, 'specially in the face of knowin' what's right and wrong. Thing with Mac is, as I've come to realise, he ain't so confident and courageous in matters of the heart. We ain't spoken much about it, as Mac's a private kinda' man about his feelin's, but I know Stell's the closest person to his heart, and the way I see it is that he's afraid of openin' up about all his feelings for her, maybe 'cause he's afraid of losin' her. Which ain't gonna happen. They ain't gonna lose each other. Well, so long as the pair of 'em don't keep actin' as recklessly as they do at times, and gettin' themselves into trouble. It'll be the death of 'em if they ain't careful…

Guess I shouldn't speak so lightly about it though. 'Cause trouble or not, I reckon all of us in town look to them as kinda' important. If there's a single person in town who don't think highly of the Sheriff and the Saloon Owner, then I've yet to meet 'em.

Realise suddenly that the bacon in my mouth's startin' to go cold as I've been chewin' on it and thinkin' at the same time. Best swallow it down, otherwise Miss Jessica's gonna think I'm turnin' down breakfast and'll only start her worryin' about me.

Which is the very thing that's stopped me tellin' her more about what happened to me yesterday afternoon, before Mac and Stella decided to go ridin' blithely out in a blizzard. Still ain't told anyone what the outlaw who knocked me over the head had to say before he took off. The warnin' he gave me for Messer's been ringin' in my head since then and I don't reckon I know what to do about it all. Guess I should talk to Messer himself, ask if he knows anyone from his past who might be wantin' to cause trouble for him, and the rest of us. Trouble is though, with the adventures we've had since yesterday, it's been sorta' hard to find a moment to take him to one side. It ain't gonna be somethin' I make public. If Messer's in some sorta' trouble with his old buddies beyond the law, then as he's a friend of mine, I'm gonnna do what I can to get him out of it. Can't be botherin' Mac about it at the moment. Reckon the best thing to do's get a hold of Messer soon as I can. Soon as he and Lindsay return from wherever they've disappeared to…

"You all right, Don?" The voice of an angel breaks into my troubled thoughts and I realise I've been standin' there a good few minutes chewin' my breakfast and thinkin'.

"You looked sorta' pensive." She continues, and reaches up to adjust my hat, which seems to have slipped a little to one side. Then she smiles that smile again, the one that makes my heart melt, and for an instant, all my troubles melt away with it, "Guess you were thinkin' 'bout yesterday, huh? All the trouble we've had since yesterday mornin'?"

Seems at times as if she can almost read my thoughts. Same as I've observed between Mac and Stell at times; how they kinda' finish each other's sentences and all, and can have a conversation without either one of 'em openin' their mouths. Reckon me and Miss Jessica have got our own kind of understandin' too, and it's one I wouldn't be without now.

So I nod my head, and swallow my mouthful, and realise I'm lookin' at an empty plate. Which Miss Jessica takes outta my hands.

"I got a good plan." She smiles, "You go upstairs and check on the Sheriff, and whilst you're doin' that, I'll go carry on gettin' things sorted in the kitchen, and keepin' an eye on Mr Hammerback. I've left Miss Higgins in there with him, so she might be in need of some assistance."

"Where's Mrs Hammerback?" I gotta ask, as you don't often get one Hammerback without the other, and reckon the rest of us owe some of our sanity, and existence, to Mrs Hammerback's steadyin' influence on her husband.

"She's gone upstairs to relieve Dr Hawkes and let him get some sleep. Took herself and a large plate of food up there not a half hour ago, right before you woke up." She smiles again and adjusts my tie, pattin' it down lightly against my shirt. Real nimble fingers she's got, as well as the power of seein' into my mind. "You were sleepin' so peacefully, we didn't want to wake you, 'specially after all you did last night. Guess you needed the rest."

"Didn't do no more than anyone else" I mumble, and she pats my cheek.

"You did brave deeds, as did everyone, but don't be modest 'bout it. Don't reckon the rescue could've gone so well without your coordinatin' it all."

Guess she sees how I'm feelin' sorta' uncomfortable talkin' 'bout it, as she tells me, "I'll get some more food for your plate whilst you head up those stairs.

"Thank you, Miss Jessica." I find my hand claspin' hers for a moment, which I hope she don't mind. Don't think she does though, as she don't stop smilin'. Never known anyone better suited to their name than Miss Jessica Angell. Wonder sometimes if I said that to her, if she'd be embarrassed, or if she'd tease me 'bout it. Wouldn't want to be embarrassing her; though I wouldn't mind her teasin' me.

"Well off you go, no time like the present! Standin' there ain't gonna do any good!" She shoos me towards the stairs, and I feel my face splitting into a grin. Feels real good to be grinnin'; can't say I've felt like doin' that much in the last twenty four hours. But as I'm headin' towards the stairs, and watchin' Miss Jessica walkin' with a spring in her step towards the kitchen, I ain't losin' that grin. It's the start of a new day, and that's always a cause for hope.

So I head up those stairs and towards the room where I left the Doc, Mac and Stell last night, and as I'm walkin' down the landin', I hear what sounds like Mac's voice. Gotta be a good sign, that he's awake and talkin'. Few steps further along, and yep, that's the voice of the Sheriff for sure. A few feet from the door, and I'm able to make out what he's sayin'. And it _don't _sound like the kinda' thing I'd expect Mac to be sayin'. Can feel my brow furrowin' in confusion as I reach the door and hesitate for a moment to listen. Ain't no question it's Mac's voice, but surely he ain't just said what I thought he just said? Somethin' about Stella's…? No! _No way! _But either my ears are doin' me a mighty disservice, or Mac really _did_ say somethin' I'd never expect him to about Stella and her…

This I gotta hear more of! My hand's hesitatin' before knockin', but Mac's fallen silent, so a little disappointed, I knock, and push the door open soon as I hear Mrs Hammerback's voice tellin' me to come in.

Mac's lyin' in the bed, and Stell and Mrs Hammerback are sittin' in chairs either side. Stell's is drawn up beside the pillow, and she's got a cloth in her hand, which she's dabbin Mac's forehead with. As I enter and clear my throat, she looks up sharply, with a look I ain't seen too often on her features. Embarrassment. Her cheeks are blushin' red, and her eyes kinda' dart between me and Mac.

"How long were you standin' outside that door?" She asks accusingly, "'Cause I'm _sure_ you ain't a one for listenin' to conversations you oughtn't to be listenin' to…" I don't miss the pointed look she gives me, nor the sarcasm.

I got the grace to blush a little myself, as maybe I did pause a moment or two longer before knockin' than I needed to. Only 'cause of what I thought I heard Mac say though.

I change the subject, "See you're in bed restin', like I expected you to be."

I'm as good as she is at usin' pointed looks and sarcasm, and she's also got the grace to blush. Even more than she was doin' already.

"I woke up, and wasn't gonna be lyin' in bed when I don't need to be, and when there's plenty to be doin'." She snaps, "As you can see, Mac's bein' taken care of by Mrs Hammerback and myself. So you can go back downstairs and make sure no one's makin' a mess in my Saloon!" All the time she's speakin', she's glancin' anxiously at Mac, who ain't said anythin' else for the moment. He's lookin' better, but there's perspiration on his skin and he's a little flushed.

"How is he?" I ask, and it's Mrs Hammerback who answers me, whilst Stell dips her cloth into a basin of water, wrings it out and presses it onto Mac's forehead again.

Her lips quirk and she gives me a look I can't entirely figure out for the moment, "Improving, my love. Touch of fever, that's all, but Miss Stella's keeping a good eye on him, and I'm keeping an eye on _both_ of them, making sure nothing untoward happens. So you needn't worry, Mr Don. How's my Sidney? Hope you're not allowing him to make a muddle of Miss Stella's kitchen, hmm?" Her eyebrows raise, and her brown eyes twinkle at me, "Maybe you'd best be heading back down those stairs to keep your own eye on everyone. Miss Jessica might be missing you my lovely." Unless I'm very much mistaken, again, Mrs Hammerback gives me a wink.

"If you're sure you don't need me here…"

"We're sure!" Stell interrupts, at the same moment as a groan comes from Mac, "You can go, Don. _Now_." There's a frantic sorta' tone in her voice, as I see Mac blink and open his mouth, "And you know what? I could _really_ enjoy a cup of coffee, if you care to bring me one up…" She adds hastily, with a look of pleadin' in her face.

As I'm about to give in and leave, reluctantly, Mac starts speakin' again.

His eyes flicker open, and his hand clutches hold of hers, "Stell?" He mutters, "You still there? You ain't gone?"

"I'm here Mac, don't fret. Remember I told you? You're safe now, and I'm safe too. I got back to town in one piece, we all did. Ain't no need for you to be worryin'…"

"Gotta tell you things, Stell…" He mutters, and then his face furrows, "Tell… Stell… Rhymes. I like rhymes. Like poems… Like _Stella_… She's like a poem. Like poetry the way she moves when she walks and kinda sways her…"

"Mac!" Stell exclaims, and hushes him with a finger to his lips, "Mac, you shouldn't be talkin'! Should be restin. _Quietly_…"

My mouth's hangin' open. This is a side to Mac Taylor I never imagined existed! Declarin' feelin's that oughtn't strictly to be declared in company. Guess the reason is that he ain't fully aware he's _got_ company…

He grabs hold of Stell's hand, and presses it to his lips, and all the while Mrs Hammerback and me are tryin' not to catch each other's eye. 'Cause this _ain't_ funny, I tell myself sternly. Not funny _at_ _all_. Should be ashamed of myself for findin' any sort of amusement in the situation…

"Stella…" He murmurrs again, and she throws me a glare, but I can't leave now. This is just gettin' interesting.

"Stella… You gotta listen… Got things I need to tell you…."

"Mac, you need to sleep!" She says desperately, "Just close your eyes and rest…"

He shakes his head, "Can't. Can't sleep yet. Gotta tell you things…" His eyes close for a moment, and I can see Stell's holdin' her breath. Don't take long before they open and he's murmurin' again. Softer this time though. Meanin' I gotta step forward and strain my ears to hear what he's sayin'.

"If I sleep, I'm gonna be dreamin' again… Dreamin' about you, Stella." There's _definitely_ a smile on his face now, "Dreamin' we go for a walk and it starts rainin' and we get soakin' wet… So we gotta run to shelter and take off all…"

"Mac!" Stella yelps. And I fail to choke back a snigger. Though it really ain't right to be laughin' at a man in a fevered state of fantasy, and a woman whose cheeks are almost on fire with embarrassment…

And it seems Mac ain't finished. After Stell's managed to cut off whatever he was gonna say about his dreams (though it don't take much imagination to fill in the gaps) he starts mutterin' again.

"Stell…"

"It's all right, Mac. I'm right here, still holdin' your hand." She soothes him, runnin' her hand across his brow, and the smile on his face returns.

"Feels good… Real good. Havin' your hand in mine… Your hand touchin' me…" He's smilin' again, a happy smile, "You got a gentle touch, Stell… Real gentle… Get to wonderin' sometimes 'bout touchin' and kissin' your face and neck real gently and then runnin' my hands down and touchin' your beautiful…"

"_Mac!_" It's a squeal this time from her, and reckon you could almost burn yourself on the heat comin' from her cheeks. Oh lord, my own cheeks are hurtin' too, from the laugh that wants to come burstin' out. Can't laugh though. That'd be wrong. _Real_ wrong…

"Don Flack, are you laughin'?" Stella hisses suddenly, turnin' to face me with a ferocious glare. So I take a step back.

"Nope. Not me. I ain't laughin'. Ain't a man known for laughter…" She surprises me then by gettin' out of her chair faster than I can blink and standin' toe to toe with me, glowerin'.

"Good, 'cause if you _are_… And another thing, if this ever leaves this room, you won't be laughin' for a long, _long_ time. Got it?"

I take another step back, and my face is as straight as a yardstick, "Got it." Then I glance over to the bed, "Think Mac's demandin' your attention again…"

Sure enough, his hand's sorta' gropin' about on the covers, so she hurries back over, and takes hold of it, "All right, Mac, I ain't gone anywhere."

"Don't be goin' anywhere, Stell… Need you with me… Need you holdin' my hand… Wish I could hold it more often… Hold it tight… Hold onto every part of you…"

Stell's lookin' apprehensive.

I'm smirking.

And Mac ain't finished all he gotta say, "Get to wishin' sometimes, when we're in the Saloon, that we're the only ones there…" He murmurs with a smile, "Get to imaginin' that I'd hold you real tight then… Start kissin' you… Then I'd sorta' sweep everything off of the bar, lay you down on it, and we'd…"

"_Mac!_" It's a howl this time that comes from Stell, and her hand clamps over his mouth with a look of horror.

Before I can even begin to think of anythin' coherent to say in response to Mac's startlin' confession, however, the door busts open and Miss Jessica flies through it. She stares round wildly and announces trouble of a terrible kind.

"It's Lindsay and Mr Messer!" She takes in a gulp of air, "There's footprints and blood in the snow out back, Mr Messer's hat and Lindsay's necklace, and a rag with stuff that smells like chloroform on it! Gotta be only one explanation… They've been kidnapped!"

**Hope you liked this, and it made up for the delay. I did enjoy writing it :D Reviews very welcome, thank you, Lily x**


	16. She Wore A Yellow Ribbon

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author**** Lily Moonlight**

**Notes**** Chapter 16: More discoveries, and more peril…**

**Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help with writing, and I love knowing what you think. **

**Thank you SO much to everyone who nominated and voted for me in the fan fiction awards! I'm really delighted and honoured to have won what I did, including best AU story (jointly with 'Different Beginnings' by LivelyStevens), best Mac/Stella story, and best team story for 'Old West'. Please excuse a little conceitedness in listing them :D**

**Thank you to everyone who has given me a poke to update, and who has helped with discussion about this story and the possible sequel, yes, I'm thinking about that already ;) I'm also writing a couple of stories collaboratively; 'Big Sky Country' with Brinchen86, under the name of RoseBrina - we'd love you to read and review! Shortly to be posted is 'Hidden Agenda' written with Forest Angel, under the name of Woodland Flower. '12 Days' by Lily and Blue will also be finished, we promise!**

**Apologies this has taken ages to update; oneshot ideas took over, as well as work and collaborative stories, also I was nervous about posting this chapter. It's taken me a long time to write, so please review and tell me what you thought of it! I really hope you like it. Okay, these notes are now **_**very**_** long… On with the chapter!**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 16: She Wore A Yellow Ribbon

Lindsay:

"_Danny! _Danny, wake up!"

Oh lord, what am I going to do? I'm nudgin' him with my foot as best I can, seein' as my hands and ankles are tied, but he don't hear me, and I don't know what to do! Truth is, I'm rapidly realisin' I can't do much at all in the situation we've gotten into. Well, that we've been _kidnapped_ into. Certainly ain't a situation I'd have chosen to be in. Know I'd much rather be back inside the warmth of the Saloon, instead of bein' tied up in the back of a dirty old wagon…

But we were overpowered! Oh, and it was my fault, all my fault! Should have been more careful. Should have taken more notice in that kitchen when I heard the noises outside. Can hardly believe I let myself get caught by that man. But he surprised me! Creeping up behind me so silently I didn't hear him till it was too late. I ain't ever been so thankful to see a sight of someone as when my Danny came through that door, but I ain't ever been so afraid for someone. 'Cause I knew in that instance, that Danny was in trouble too, 'cause he ain't the kind of man to stand by when he sees someone needin' help. That's the thing though, don't mind so much myself bein' in trouble, but not anyone else. Feels like I've gotten him into trouble, and that ain't fair.

He did what I knew he would, what he can't seem to help himself doin'; he tried comin' to my rescue. Only took a moment for him to take in the situation, then he was tacklin' the man who had hold of me. Jumped right at him, didn't even give him time to yell out, and it meant I managed to break free for a moment. Weren't enough though, 'cause Danny got himself overpowered, despite his bravery. Reckon the knife hidden in the man's hands turned the advantage his way. I ain't ever been so afraid as when I saw him pull out that wicked lookin' blade, and saw it headin' towards my Danny. Tried to help, I _tried_. Got my hands around his neck, but he pushed me back with his elbow so I fell, knocked the air right outta me and all. Then when I scrambled to my feet, he was waitin' for me with another shove, and I was knocked clean over. Last thing I remember is topplin' backwards, and my head hittin' the table leg, until I woke up not more'n a few minutes ago and found myself and Danny lyin' in a heap of straw in the back of a wagon. Can only speculate as to what happened to us; guess Danny must've been knocked out too. Reckon then we must have been tied up and dragged out. I ain't hurt bad though, and can't see any injuries to Danny other than a great big lump I can see on the top of his head. Can't say how thankful I am the knife that brute of a man had in his hands don't seem to have found its way into the skin of my Danny.

Gotta be thankful for small things; seems the only things that got hurt are our heads. That weren't no small hurt though; Danny ain't showin' no sign of wakin', and even though I wouldn't be tellin' him, my head's hurtin' a fair bit. Guess if I'm honest, this one's the worst I've ever had.

Somehow, thinkin' about headaches gets me thinkin' about Ma, and suddenly the tears I been tryin' so hard to hold back all this time are slippin' down my cheeks. What would she say now, to see her girl in this mess? But not even she'd have anythin' to help me now. Besides, she's too far away, she and Pa. Miles and miles and miles away, back in Montana, not even knowin' what's goin' on. Maybe that ain't a bad thing though. Wouldn't want them knowin' I was in trouble and worryin' about me 'cause they couldn't do anything about it. Couldn't have that…

Guess I'd better wipe these tears off my face. Tears and wantin' my Ma ain't gonna do me and Danny no good. I'm a grown woman, independent too, and I didn't leave home to come all the way to Hattanville only to be cryin' for my Ma, soon as I get into a little difficulty. We're in trouble, Danny and me, that's the truth, but it don't mean we can't get ourselves out of it. I'm thinkin' now of Stella and the Sheriff, and the trouble they got into only yesterday. They managed to get themselves outta that. Neither of them have a Ma or Pa to get them out of a fix. Least, I know Stella ain't got any parents, and Mr Taylor don't ever speak about his. Heard someplace that his Pa died many years ago, but I don't know anythin' about his Ma. She must be a real old lady, or maybe she's passed away too. Real sad that would be; feel sad for Stella too, bein' an orphan. Can't imagine what that'd feel like, 'cause I've always known I got my Ma and Pa there, even if I'm a long way from them.

It's because they're all that way away in Montana, that they ain't even met Danny yet, but I know they're going to welcome him into our family, soon as they lay eyes on him. That occasion ain't far off, 'cause I heard from Ma only a few days ago, when she sent a little parcel of cookies for me and Danny to enjoy, and a letter to tell me how they were gettin' ready to travel here for our weddin'. Got Danny to write a note back to her, 'cause I reckon she'll have appreciated that. I _know _she's going to like him when she meets him finally, Pa too. I just know it. And that's another reason for me to wipe these tears from my eyes and start thinkin' about how we're going to get out of this situation. 'Cause me and Danny have got a wedding to be havin', in only a couple of weeks time!

Oh _Danny_…

All this time I been thinkin', and he still ain't opened his eyes. His face is real pale and he's got a streak of blood that's run down his temple. If I could get my hands free, I'd reach for my handkerchief and clean it up for him, but at the moment, that ain't possible. Oh I hate whoever's done this to us! I hate them 'cause they've hurt my Danny! Soon as I can get my hands on them, they're going to be _real_ sorry they ever laid their hands on us! Soon as I can get my own hands untied that is. Darn it! Whoever tied us up sure didn't use a soft sort of rope. Ouch! My wrists are going to be red raw by the time I've worked loose. Guess if that means freedom though, it's a price I'm willing to pay.

Rope cuttin' into my wrists ain't the only thing that's painin' me though. We're bumpin' about all over the place now. Guess the wagon we're in's only small, 'cause the two of us are lyin' pressed close together. Can't have much in the way of wheels neither, going by the way we're joltin' about. Wish I knew how long I've been lyin' here, and where we are. Must be somewhere away from the road, well, I'm guessin' that anyhow. Can't say honestly for sure.

We've gone over another real big bump, and it's bumped me and Danny closer together so I'm almost lyin on top of him now. Wouldn't be mindin' that in any other circumstances, but this ain't good at all. And he ain't in any state to be respondin' with his arms tight around me. Can't even put my arms round him neither, and offer him some comfort, and brush the pieces of straw he got sprinkled all over him.

Wouldn't normally mind lyin' in a heap of straw with Danny either; it's got a real warm and welcomin' scent to it, fresh straw. Like how it feels kinda prickly against my skin. Almost as prickly as Danny's skin when he ain't taken too much care over his shavin'. Smell and feel of straw always reminds me of home and the ranch. And times when me and Danny have enjoyed each other's company… Not that that's somethin' that happens often. Only when there ain't other folks around, and when old Mr West's left his barn door open, and we've needed to take shelter from the cold, as it were. Guess though we're almost married so we ain't doin' no wrong. This ain't fresh or welcomin' straw though; it's dusty and dirty, and's stickin' into me real uncomfortably. Gotta ignore that though; gotta try and wake Danny up

"Danny! _Danny!_"

Aint' gettin' no response. Why, when I get my hands on the men who've done this, they'll be regrettin' the day they laid hands on my Danny! The bare-faced audacity of it! Kidnappin' people! It just ain't done in polite circles! Guess there ain't much polite about the man who's done this though. Whoever he is. Can't figure out why this has happened. What does he want with us? I'm lyin' back in the straw now, tryin' to figure out a reason for all this. Can hardly get my mind to thinkin' straight, way my head's still poundin'. Feel kinda dizzy too, guess hittin' your head against a table leg can do that to you.

Let's get things figured out though. So me and Danny've been kidnapped. By a man. From the Saloon. Got that much clear in my mind. Guess that's a start. Why we've been kidnapped and who this man is, well, that's a mystery still. One I'm sure goin' to be figurin' out. Don't like to be faced with somethin' I don't understand. Remember when I was real small, and Pa used to find things out amongst the fields for me, little bits of things he'd picked up from the fields and prairies, feathers and flowers. Used to get me to work out what plant or what bird they'd come from. Used to get myself real frustrated when I didn't know the answer, but I'd keep trying until I knew. Guess that was somethin' that made Pa proud of me. Don't like to be boastin', but I reckon I'm pretty good at figuring out mysteries.

Thinkin' on that, I remember how Mr Hammerback heard me talkin' once about mysteries, and next day, he called round to the school house with an armful of mystery stories that he'd enjoyed readin' himself. Real kind of him that was. He's a good man, if a little odd at times. Guess everyone in the town kinda overlooks that, even if he does get himself and the rest of us into danger at times. Remember the time he was studying insects, entymology he called it, and managed to gather a whole collection of flyin' creatures of some variety. Didn't ask him what exactly they were, didn't want to be gettin' too close to them. Kept a glass case full of them in his parlour, and used to invite people to come look at them. Course he looked after them real well and kindly, but it didn't take long for disaster to strike. Happened when I took my children to look and little Mary-Sue Garrett was pushed by Billy Jenkins, and knocked into the tank, sending it crashin' to the floor. Sendin' a whole cloud of flyin' insects all round the room and out into the street. Ain't never seen anythin' like it. Folks were screamin' and yellin, runnin' to get outta the way. Ended up with Mr Sinclair pushed right into the horse trough. Danny and I happened to be close by, as he'd come out on hearin' the commotion and wanted to check I was all right. Course, Danny was tryin' real hard not to laugh. Wanted to laugh myself, but that wouldn't have been right and proper at all, and certainly not with all my children lookin' to me to set them a good example. We helped Mr Sinclair up, though I suspect that Danny losing hold of his hand at the first attempt so he fell back with a tremendous splash weren't entirely accidental…

Poor Mr Hamerback, it fair devastated him, that he'd caused distress to folks. Felt real sorry for him, 'specially when Mr Sinclair started yellin' and shoutin' and threatenin' him with all sorts of dire consequences. Real glad to see Mr Taylor come over at that point, followed closely by Stella. They got it sorted out between him. Stella took Sinclair over to the Saloon for a glass of brandy to calm his nerves, and Mr Taylor had a quiet word with Mr Hammerback about the unsuitability of certain hobbies. As did Mrs Hammerback, 'cause me and Danny happened to pass by their house later that day. Didn't take much eavesdroppin' to hear Mrs Hammerback havin' a 'quiet word' with her husband.

Now I'm wonderin' what it's gonna be like for me, havin' a husband. Guess it's gonna mean things'll be different for me and Danny, once we're married. Or maybe they won't be. It's a big step for both of us, but not somethin' to be feared. Been lookin' forward to the day we'll be married since even before Danny asked me officially.

Oh _Danny_…

I'm whisperin' his name, letting' him know I'm there, even if his eyes are still closed. Got tears burnin' my eyes now. And I'm angry too. I ain't a girl who gets angry real often, but when I do then it comes explodin' out of me and I can't stop it. Got heat risin' up in me and a sorta' boilin' feelin' inside my stomach, and it strikes me that I'm _real_ mad. 'Cause someone's hurt the person I love most, and they ain't gonna get away with it! Don't care about myself bein' hurt, that don't matter. I ain't hurt bad anyhow, headache's don't take much to be fixed, but someone's hurt my Danny!

Guess this is what happens when you love someone; they sorta become a part of you, a real special and precious part that you know you gotta protect and care for. If anythin' happens to them, it hurts you more than anythin' happening to you. Remember the time a few months back when Danny hurt himself. He was doin' some mendin' of the wall for me, real old and tumble-down wall, when some of the bricks in it tumbled down right on top of him. Heard him cursin' and yellin, so I ran out and found him out there with a great long gash to his knee. Course, soon as he saw me, he tried pretendin' that there weren't nothin' wrong with him, but I knew there was. Didn't take the sight of his face all white and the catch in his voice to tell me that. Helped him indoors and got him fixed up with a bandage and a cold compress, but all the time I was fixin' him, I was hurtin' inside. 'Cause _he'd_ been hurt. Felt like I was in more pain than he was. But that didn't matter; I'd have taken on ten times more pain if it meant I could've spared him some. When someone you love, and whose life means more to you than you can say, gets hurt, you hurt ten times worse. Seen that in other folks who love each other; Flack and Miss Jessica for instance - the time he got injured in a brawl with a cow puncher, I saw how upset she was as she dressed his wounds.

But love ain't just about sharin' hurt and heartache; love's about sharin' joy and happiness. I ain't ever seen a man so happy and proud as Mr Taylor when it was first made known in town that he and Stella were steppin' out together. Seen how he indulges her love of fashions too - couldn't stop myself smilin' a few weeks back when she came to tell me how he'd surprised her with a length of silk to make up a new shawl with. Fair to say, it makes me sigh in happiness to see the lovin' devotion he shows to her. Guess seein' her happy makes him real happy too. Ten times as happy, if the look in his face was anythin' to go by when I saw her fling her arms round him later that day as she thanked him.

Much as it makes me happy to see the Sheriff and Stella as in love as they are, the fact that I got my own person who loves me, is happiness that can't be bettered. But truth be told, right now, because of lovin' that person, I'm feelin' more unhappy than I can ever remember. Because he's lyin' at my side, he ain't movin', and I don't know what fate is waitin' for us! All I know is, we're in the biggest trouble of our lives, and though I almost don't dare think it, reckon this is trouble that if we ain't careful, might end up costin' our lives.

Oh, Danny, you gotta wake up! You just gotta! Can't face this on my own.

I'm wriggling and wriggling my hands, tryin' to free them from the ropes that are cutting into them. I realise suddenly that I'm winnnin' the battle here; these knots ain't so bad as I first thought. Huh, whoever tied these knots didn't know the first thing about it! Guess that's somethin' I know a bit about, tyin' knots. Pa taught me all kinds of useful skills when I was a little girl. So I know all kinds of things that maybe not all girls do. And little by little, I'm gettin' my fingers free. Just a little more… little more…

_Free!_

I sag back against the back of the wagon. Feel relieved, but all this bumpin' about's makin' me feel real sick. Can feel my stomach churnin', and I'm regrettin' not eatin' any breakfast. Being knocked out on an empty stomach ain't good for a girl. Heck, just being knocked out ain't good for a girl! Nor a guy neither. I'm ramblin' a touch now, hope it ain't the blow to my head…

Ain't got time to be ramblin' though, got Danny to save! Now I got myself free, should be real easy to get him free. But all this rockin' about in the wagon's makin' it hard. My fingers are slippin' and the knots round Danny's wrists and ankles ain't budgin'. Seems to me that whoever tied him up _did_ know about knots, which leads me to think that whoever kidnapped us weren't actin' alone. Which means we got more than one enemy to face whenever we gotta face them. Guess we'll find that out soon enough. And I'm going to be ready for them.

But I still can't free Danny! My hand's are shakin', and this sick feelin' ain't going away. If only I had somethin' I could use to help…

I have! My knife! Oh I could kick myself… why didn't I think of that before now? Guess the being knocked unconscious didn't help. Now, come on Lindsay, get yourself together and get moving! Got my knife tucked away in my bodice; the buck knife Pa gave me. Come in real useful many a time has that knife. Maybe I ain't so good with a pistol as Stella and Miss Jessica are, and I know despite their kindness and patience in teachin' me to shoot, that I ain't ever going to be like Miss Annie Oakley, but I guess that don't matter. As Pa used to tell me, you can't be good at everything, that'd make life too easy, and too dull. You got to have some obstacles to overcome, 'cause it helps build up your character. So I'll keep on learnin' even if sharp-shootin' don't come easy to me. I know though that I'm real good at handlin' a knife. Pa taught me how to use it in all kinds of situations, and I'm real skilled with a catapult too. Which gives me cause for hope that I'll master a pistol soon enough.

Now, let's get these ropes cut though and my Danny freed up. Don't take me long, my hands are steadyin' and soon I'm rubbin' his poor hands and wrists, trying to get the blood flowin' again. Seems to be helpin' in other ways too, 'cause finally his eyes have started to flutter.

"Danny! Danny, can you hear me? It's your Lindsay!"

I'm strokin' his hair real gentle, feelin' that lump on his head again. Feelin' all that anger bubblin' up inside me again. No one hurts my Danny and gets away with it! But he's stirrin' now, and I gotta focus on helpin' him. Finally, his eyes sorta' crack open.

"Lindsay…" He croaks and swallows, "That… that you?"

"It's me, yes, it's Lindsay! It's all right, don't you worry, I'm going to make sure of that."

He sorta screws his face up and tries to move, but I hold him.

"Ssh, you just lay still."

"Where are we? Somethin'… Somethin' happened…"

"We got kidnapped, Danny." I tell him and can't stop a small quiver in my voice, "From the Saloon. You remember?"

He blinks and frowns, "Saloon… we were in the… the kitchen… been to see Hawkes, and the Sheriff and Miss Stella…"

"And you came back down and into the kitchen, remember that? Someone had a hold of me, and you tried to fight them off…"

"Couldn't let him hurt you… Never gonna let you get hurt… never…" His head droops for a moment, then jerks back up, "No one hurts my… my girl…"

He's sorta slurring his words, and that worries me real bad. Danny's taken a real heavy blow to the head. Hope it ain't damaged him too much. Trouble with Danny though, is that he seems to attract trouble that leads to him getting damaged. Like the time he fell off the roof of the Sheriff's Office. Happened after he climbed up there to rescue my favourite yellow hair ribbon, even though I told him it didn't matter and I could buy another. Couldn't stop him though, and of course as he was climbing up, he slipped and fell. I coulda' killed him. Fortunately the fall didn't, as he landed in a big old heap of horse manure. Sure made him curse though; I was blushing to hear some of the words he used. Words I ain't ever even heard before. Not even from Stella the time I was practising shootin' in the back yard of the Saloon, missed my target and almost shot the Sheriff as he was comin' through the back gate. Never heard a lady curse so loud. Mr Taylor was too shocked to say a word. Not sure if that was due to the bullet that had just whizzed past his ear or Stella's choice of words.

They were both real nice about it though, after we'd all drunk a glass of Stella's strong stuff. Couldn't help but notice she had the biggest glass. Did us all good, even though my legs were shakin' for hours afterwards at the thought that I'd almost killed the Sheriff of Hattanville…

"Lindsay… you all right?"

That brings a smile to my face; Danny's voice is soundin' stronger.

"Don't you worry about me." I tell him, "Got more cause to be worried about you! How you feelin'?"

"Better for havin' you besides me…" He manages before saggin' back onto the straw. With a groan, he presses his hand to his forehead, "Lindsay… S'all my fault…"

"It ain't your fault! How could it be?" I'm squeezin' his hand, hopin' he ain't getting' delirious and ramblin' from the bang to his head.

"No… no, you gotta listen to me… S'all 'cause of me… The man in the kitchen… Didn't recognise him at first, but I know him… One of them… one of the gang… Gang I told you 'bout, way back, when I weren't so good at keepin' myself outta trouble… when me and Louie…"

Then all of a sudden, we lurch to a stop and we're both thrown together in a heap.

There's the sound of someone jumpin' down into the snow, then the sound of footsteps crunchin' in the snow makes me and Danny look at each other in fear. Next thing, a shadow of someone tall and thin passes along the cloth sides of the wagon. Danny and me are holdin' tight to one another as there's a pause and the shadow looms in front of us. The flap of material at the back of the wagon is pulled aside and a face looks in at us. A face I don't know, but Danny lets out a curse at the sight of it. It ain't a pretty sight; he's tall and scrawny, got a deep scar runnin' down the side of his face, and I can see his teeth are all smashed up and black as he leers at us. He chuckles and it's a sound that sends a chill through me.

"Well now." He says and cracks his knuckles, makin' me feel sick again, "Looky who we got here. Little Danny and his girl. Ain't this nice."

_Little_ Danny?

I turn to him, a hundred questions shootin' through my mind. But his face is dead white and all he can choke out is one word.

"_Louie_…"

**Long chapter, but I really hope you liked it. Please review and tell me what you think! Thank you, Lily x**


	17. Montana Desperado

**Disclaimer****: I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author****: Lily Moonlight**

**Notes****: Chapter 17: Meanwhile back in Hattanville…**

**Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help with writing, and I love knowing what you think - please boost my writing confidence! Thanks to everyone who has helped me discussing this story, and the sequel, I really appreciate all your help and time. Particularly for this chapter, thanks to: _Andorian Ice Princess-AIP _and_ Forest Angel _for confidence boosts; _Blue Shadowdancer _(who locked me in my own cottage and deprived me of tea until I wrote this XD) and I must also thank my mum (does this sound too much like an Oscar speech?!) for reading this over and encouraging me with the ending… It's all her fault :P**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 17: Montana Desperado

Jessica Angell:

After breakin' the news about the kidnappin' of our friends, my heart's poundin' fit to burst. Don's eyes have gone wide, Miss Stella's mouth's dropped open, and poor Mrs Hammerback's caught hold of the back of her chair, and I'm worried she's about to fall to the ground in a swoon. Though she maybe ain't the swoonin' type. Sure _hope_ she ain't. Mr Taylor's the only one who don't show no reaction. Which would be 'cause he's still unconscious. Well, his eyes are closed anyhow. Seems to have a smile on his face, so maybe he's dreamin' of somethin' nice.

Sure wish all _this_ would turn out to be a dream. As if we didn't have enough trouble with the town facin' destruction, now we gotta deal with our friends being kidnapped!

"_K - kidnapped?_" Don finally splutters, "Danny? Lindsay? You _sure?_"

"Sure as sure." I tell him in no uncertain terms, "Though I sure wish I weren't! Ain't no other explanation for it though. Thought at first they'd disappeared for some time together without the rest of us, but there's evidence of a struggle outside the back door, not to mention the mess of footsteps and tracks, and then there's drops of blood spilled and all."

Guess that's the real worryin' thing. Drops of blood in the snow ain't ever a good thing, 'specially when they could've come from your friends. Gotta keep calm about all this though. If Mr Messer and Miss Monroe are in trouble, then we gotta be calm to help them. They'll be relyin' on us, so we can't let 'em down.

"Can't believe this…" Don sits down heavily on a chair and his eyes are sorta dazed as he stares at me, "Can't believe this is happening."

Miss Stella gives his shoulder a squeeze, even though the shock ain't left her face neither.

"What exactly did you find, Miss Angell? You said there was blood, some of their personal effects?" She glances at Mrs Hammerback, "Was… was there much blood? You see any tracks, anything like that? Anything at all that might help us find them?"

"There were tracks." I reply, pleased to be able to give her a hopeful answer. I move so I'm standin' next to Don; guess I'm hopin' my presence next to him might give him a bit of strength. Sure feel _I'm_ a bit stronger when I'm next to him. Guess we're gonna need all the strength we can get from each other to get this all sorted out. Feel sorry for Miss Stella as she's standin' there, and poor Mr Taylor's still lyin' in the bed lookin' pale. Reckon she's been usin' up a fair amount of her own strength helpin' him and worryin' about him. Now she's got a fresh thing to worry about…

But there's suddenly a keen look appearin' in her face, "What kind of tracks? Any we can follow?"

I nod, and start to feel a little more hopeful. Tracks gotta lead somewhere, and to someone. And reckon whoever's taken our friends maybe weren't the brightest candle in the chandelier, 'cause they didn't think about the fact that we got a thick coatin' of snow on the ground, and that a thick coatin' of snow's just the thing for leavin' an impression in.

"Yeah, reckon so." I answer, "Seems whoever took them was usin' some kinda wagon - got tracks that lead outta town. Also got footprints, though they're all kinda jumbled up. Looks like we got a few different people involved - recognised what must be Miss Monroe's, as they were the smallest of 'em all, then Mr Messer's boots…"

I stop at the quizzical look Miss Stella and Don are givin' me, and decide to give a quick explanation, "Used to follow my brothers round when I was a little girl, when they'd head off on fishing expeditions and leave me behind. Never stood for them doin' that, so I'd teach myself to follow their tracks. Got real good at it too, always found 'em too. In the end they realised they were better off takin' me with them in the first place. Turned out I knew the best places for fishin' and all! "

Don's got an amused look on his face, which makes me smile. Reckon that's given him a bit of hope, knowin' I got some skills that are gonna help us find our friends. Miss Stella's smilin' too, and even Mrs Hammerback has let go of the chair and looks relieved.

"So you think you could follow where these tracks lead?" Miss Stella asks me, and I can tell from her voice that she don't have much doubt as to the answer. Gives me real confidence as I answer her.

"Reckon I can. Like I say, whoever's taken them's been real careless. Shouldn't be too difficult to follow and find Mr Messer and Miss Monroe, and whoever's been so foolish as to kidnap two residents of Hattanville!"

Miss Stella gives me a nod, and then turns to Don. Turn to him myself, and see he's got a mighty strange look on his face.

"Mr Flack, are you all right my love?" Mrs Hammerback gets in first before either Miss Stella or I can say anythin'.

Don frowns as he answers her, "Yeah, but…"

Suddenly I realise what the problem might be, and take a hold of his hand. He wraps his fingers round mine as I do so, and opens his mouth. Before he can say anything though, I'm gettin' out what _I_ want to say.

"Now listen, Don. Reckon I know what you're thinkin', and what you're about to object to, but you gotta hear me out. I ain't some tenderfoot who don't know what she's doing, nor am I a woman who's prepared to sit back whilst she could be helpin' out when folks are in need. Here's the plan I got; you and I take our horses and follow these tracks to wherever they lead. We go armed and we go with the element of surprise. Whoever's been doin' kidnapping ain't gonna be expectin' anyone to follow, so we got an advantage there. Reckon we can take 'em by surprise. Both of us know what we're doin' out there, and we got each other."

Can see Don ain't entirely convinced.

"Miss Jessica, you ain't gonna hear it from me that you're anythin' less than a brave and courageous woman, but I gotta tell you, I don't like at all the idea of you ridin' out after men who ain't hesitated to use force to kidnap people. It ain't gonna be safe…"

"Course it ain't gonna be safe!" I've still got a hold of his hand and I'm pressin' it hard, "Which is just the reason you need me there! I been in many situations that ain't safe, and I got myself outta each and everyone of 'em, and learned each time how to avoid gettin' into that particular circumstance again. Means too I got plenty of skills. Miss Stella'll vouch for me in bein' skilled with a pistol fr'instance…"

I look over at her as I say that and she gives Don a candid look.

"Sure will. Ain't met many others as good at sharp shooting as Miss Angell is."

I don't give him any time to argue with her. "And though you ain't gonna be askin' him on this occasion, as he might well be objectin' to his only daughter ridin' out after outlaws, my pa would tell you that there ain't any woman he knows of better than me at trackin' people. Now, that may sound like boastin' and forgive me if it does, but I'm a girl who speaks plain and don't have any false modesty." Realise that I just made somethin' of a long speech there, so I kinda take a deep breath as I've finished speaking, and wait to hear what the others have to say to it all.

Reckon Don don't know _what_ to say; he's starin' at me, and I can see he's figurin' out what to do next. Mrs Hammerback's lookin' thoughtfully at me, but I can see she don't object to what I said. Miss Stella's the first one to respond, and she nods her head slowly at me.

"I gotta say, Miss Angell, that you made some persuasive points, and I for one ain't gonna be stoppin' you. Ain't got no right to, and ain't got no inclination to do so neither. Know for a fact that you've got one hell of a talent for shootin' straight with a pistol, never known you miss a target, and I don't doubt your skills in tracking neither. As to facin' danger, well, you know, that ain't somethin' I shy away from myself, so guess it'd be wrong of me to tell someone else they ought to do so." She glances at where Mr Taylor's lyin', "Though you could maybe say that Mac and me might've been sorta' hasty about ridin' into danger yesterday..."

As she says this, she switches her gaze to outta the window, and seems to be avoidin' lookin at Don particularly. He glares at her and gives a sound that sounds somethin' like a snort.

"'Sorta' hasty'?" He echoes, before shakin' his head and turnin' to me, "Miss Jessica…"

"Don, don't be tryin' to put me off." I say, but he's taken hold of my other hand, so he's now got both of 'em held in his. Can't deny, even at this point, how that gives me a feelin' of safety and the knowledge that even if we do go ridin' into the worst danger of our lives, the fact that we'd be facin' it together would allow me to meet it head on without fear.

Then he smiles at me, and I feel my heart still beatin' fast inside me, as I can't seem to pull my gaze away from his eyes.

"If you give me a chance to speak, I'd tell you that I ain't gonna try and put you off. Much as I want to, 'cause if I had things my way, you'd never have to face any danger at all, _ever_, I know that ain't gonna happen. So I guess all I can do is face that danger with you."

Even though there are two other people in that room, suddenly, they don't matter at all, it's just Don and me, and I'm aware of a flush of heat in my face, spreading through to the rest of me, and I almost feel like I'm bein' scorched from the inside out…

Course, the moment don't last, as the voice of Mrs Hammerback interrupts us.

"Pardon me for interrupting here, but I think before you young folks go rushing off and getting yourselves into unnecessary danger, you need to get yourselves a plan. Wouldn't you say so, Miss Stella? It doesn't do to go riding out into the snow without a plan, now does it?"

If I ain't very much mistaken, there's a twinkle in Mrs Hammerback's eye and a quirk of her lips as she says this. Seems Miss Stella might have noticed this too, as she's turned a real pretty shade of pink, and is clearin' her throat as she's answerin' her.

"Plans are mighty useful things indeed, Mrs Hammerback. Guess we should all make use of 'em, huh?"

Notice she's still avoidin' lookin' at Don, so to save her any more embarrassment, I nod my head, "Guess that's so, Miss Stella. Now, how about we come up with a good one, so Don and I can get ourselves goin'? Reckon we don't want to spend too much time debatin' and plannin' when we got more important things to do, like ridin' out to help our friends."

She nods, and gives me a grateful smile. Meantime, I can see Mrs Hammerback with a twinkle for sure in her face.

"That all sounds like sense to me." And she settles herself back into her chair. "Maybe I can give you a few suggestions myself, if you don't mind the words of an old lady?"

We're quick to reassure her, all of us havin' a great amount of respect for Mrs Hammerback. I ain't forgotten what a help and comfort she was last night to Miss Monroe and me. Any words she might have to offer us I know will be good ones to hear.

So, a short time later, we're all set with plans debated and settled. Couldn't help myself from smilin' several times at the sight of Don bein' talked down by us three ladies. Guessin' he might have found himself a little overwhelmed by bein' the only man in the room. Apart from Sheriff Taylor that is. But he was unconscious, so wasn't able to make much of a contribution to the plans. Still ain't woken up even now, despite our plannin' getting a little loud at points.

We got things all settled though; Don and me are ridin' out to track down our friends, while Miss Stella is stayin' here to keep an eye on Mr Taylor as he's recoverin'. She's kinda' taken on the Sheriff's responsibilities whilst he's laid up in bed, so she's keepin' an eye on the town as well. With the Deputy of Hattanville and me headin' outta town, it means someone's gotta be left in charge. And she ain't shy about volunteerin' to take charge.

Fact, I'd go so far as to say that even when both the Sheriff and his Deputy are in town and in full health, it's still Miss Stella who keeps things running in Hattanville. Though I'd never be so rude as to say that out loud to either Don or Mr Taylor. Nor would she. Guess that's how she manages to do it; by lettin' them think they're the ones in charge. Gotta admire her for that.

So, once our plans are settled and Don's agreed to them, he, Miss Stella and me go downstairs and prepare for our departure, leavin' Mrs Hammerback temporarily lookin' after Mr Taylor. Reckon he's gotta wake up soon. Sure has been sleepin' a _long _time…

Takes us a few minutes to gather what we need in the way of spare pistols, lent to us by Miss Stella, who pulls several out from underneath the bar and hands them to us with instructions to be real careful with them. She also gives us a couple of small flasks of liquor, both of which I take charge of and tuck into my petticoats, along with my own pistol. Can see that Miss Stella and I both think along the same lines with bein' prepared for every eventuality, as she gives me a real approvin' look.

"Make sure you keep a careful eye on Don." She tells me in a low voice when he's got his back turned for a moment, "Seems it's real easy for the men of this town to find themselves in trouble…"

The sound of Don coughing kinda' loudly makes both of us look towards him.

He raises his eyebrows and looks at her pointedly.

"Seems to me that if the men of this town do get themselves into trouble, then it's when the _women_ of the town are accompanying them. Wouldn't you say, Stell?"

"'Cause they know we're able to find a way out of it!" She counters with her hands on her hips and a spark in her eyes.

They face each other in a challenging position for a moment, and then Don gives a sorta' grunt and lowers his eyes as he tucks another pistol into his belt.

"Well, guess we'll leave it at hopin' that there ain't gonna be much more trouble for any of us folks, men _or_ women."

Miss Stella purses her lips, "Guess I can agree with you on that at least…"

I decide it's a fine time for me to speak up.

"Don't mean to be disrespectful, but we ain't got time for disputes here. Let's get our horses saddled up and on our way. Sooner we set off, sooner we can be back here with Mr Messer and Miss Monroe, and all of us can be playin' out part in fixin the trouble the whole town's gotten itself into!"

Don starts mumbling somethin' about women and towns and trouble, which Miss Stella and I choose to ignore. She sweeps towards the door in a dignified fashion, and I hide my smile as I guide Don in the same direction.

As we step outside into the bitterly cold air, Miss Stella casts an anxious look back inside the Saloon, so I give her a pat on the arm.

"Mr Taylor's gonna be fine."

She relaxes a little, "Thanks, Miss Angell. And I know you and Don will be safe out there together." Givin' my arm a squeeze, a troubled look comes back into her face, "But please take care of yourselves, and Lindsay and Danny when you find them. We need all of you back here safely, you hear? Can't have anythin' else happenin' to anyone. Hattanville needs each and every one of its citizens."

Strikes me then that maybe I was a little light-hearted earlier with my thinkin'. It's sure a fine thing to keep a town runnin' and folks in order, but that's gotta come at a price. Guess not all folks realise all the troubles and worries she takes on too. Both she and Mr Taylor are the same in that respect. Some days when I see him frownin', it seems like he's got the weight of the town on his shoulders. Then I see Miss Stella talkin' to him, or takin' his hand, and that frown disappears. 'Cause she's taken some of his worries and troubles on herself.

Don takes his share of troubles too of course. Bein' deputy of a town ain't an easy job, and I got all the respect in the world for him for that. He's got a mighty hard task sometimes with helpin' Mr Taylor and Miss Stella. Makes me glad I can offer him my own smile and talk and hand at times, and take a few of his troubles on myself. Guess that's how it should be between two people who love each other; it's all about sharin' things. And if that sometimes means sharin' a problem, well then, it makes the times when you share happiness even sweeter.

As I'm thinkin' all this, we've reached the stables and the next few minutes are taken up in concentratin' on saddling up our horses and mounting them ready to go. Least the snow's held off, but the stuff that fell yesterday ain't disappeared by a flake, and it's cold enough to freeze our breath almost in our lungs. Hope to heaven Mr Messer and Miss Monroe have got some way of keepin' warm, wherever they are. Couldn't bear to think of 'em freezin' out there somewhere before we can rescue 'em! Means we gotta get goin' soon as we can.

As we head out the stables, Miss Stella walks alongside us, givin' us instructions and advice, even though she's got her arms wrapped round her and is startin' to shiver. Only got a light cloak thrown over her shoulders, which ain't offerin' her much warmth. Finally Don pulls up and glares down at her as we reach the steps of the Saloon.

"Stell, we gotcha'. Don't need no more tellin' what to do! Get yourself inside and in front of that fire before you risk freezin' to death for the second time in two days!"

Seems as if she's about to argue, but I get in first. "We'll be fine and dandy." I tell her, "You go see how Mr Taylor is, guess he might be awake by now."

As I hoped it would, that persuades her, and with a final few words of advice, she turns back to the Saloon and we walk on. Can see her standin' just inside the door, but when we break into a trot and start headin' out of town, she finally moves indoors and out of sight.

The wagon tracks we're followin' are real easy to see in the snow, and I'm thankful we don't seem to be dealin' with kidnappers who think about things like makin' sure it's difficult to follow 'em. Gives me hope that we ain't gonna find it too difficult to overcome them.

Ain't much conversation between Don and myself as we ride on; we're keepin' focussed on the tracks, and besides, it don't always take words to talk to each other. We can say all we need to with just a few looks and smiles between us.

After ridin' for not much more than an hour, goin' by the movement of the sun in the sky, we come across an empty wagon and the end of the tracks. What we also find is a big old empty ranch down a track. Snow's real deep around it, can only see the top of the fence posts stickin' up outta' the white. We pull up and dismount as quietly and carefully as we can. Might be no more wagon wheel tracks, but there are plenty of other interestin' marks in the snow. Marks that lead us to believe that there's been another scuffle. Snow's all kinda' churned up, then there are two sets of foot prints, pressed sorta' heavily into it. Means two people carryin' heavy burdens. Such as two captives. Don and I look at each other, then takin' out a couple of pistols each, we set off quiet as the snow itself, towards the ranch.

Only a few feet away, and suddenly there's sounds of a commotion inside - yells and screams and cursin'. In a flash, Don and I have leaped forward, not carin' any more about bein' quiet and we're runnin' for the broken down door we can see. We don't even reach it though before Miss Monroe comes burstin' through it, wild eyed and dishevelled, and with a small knife clutched in her hand. She falls into our arms sobbin' and it takes us several moments before we can get her to speak.

"Miss Monroe, _please! _What happened? Where's Mr Messer? Are you hurt?"

Don and I are starin' at her in horror, but she shakes her head finally and manages to gulp out an answer, even as she's got tears runnin' down her cheeks.

"No… no, I ain't hurt. Not me…"

"Then who, Lindsay? Who's hurt? Where's Danny?" Don asks her frantically.

"Inside… He's inside. They… they hurt him… So… so I hurt them!"

Still with her eyes starin' wildly at us, she pulls herself to her feet, and tugs us forward.

"Two of them, two men. Danny's brother. Another man. They took us. Threatening us… They were going to do… do _things_ to me. He… he tried to stop them… fought them…" Her voice shakes, but she keeps on, pulling us towards the door so we're almost over the threshold.

I grab her arm tightly, disgusted at the thought of our friends attacked in this way. "Did he hurt _you_ at all, Miss Monroe?"

"Not me. Told you that. Didn't hurt me or touch me..."

She stops dead suddenly, at the door, and her eyes dart between us. Don and I exchange a careful look, both of us more than worried at the look in her face. It's kinda' reckless and dangerous, and a look I ain't ever seen in the gentle Schoolteacher's face before.

Holdin' the knife out to us, we see that's there's blood on the blade, and a muscle in Don's jaw twitches.

Miss Monroe, her face as white as the blizzard, turns to me and her voice drops to a whisper, "I hurt _them_… 'Cause they hurt _Danny_. Got them when they weren't expectin' it. Hit one of them with a piece of wood, knocked him on the back of the head. _Hard_…"

"And the other one?" I ask her, and takin' the knife real carefully outta her hand, I move forwards a few more steps so we're almost in the building.

Now she looks frightened and clutches hold of my hand. "I… I _stabbed_ him… With… with my knife." She whispers. "He was bleedin', then he fell on the ground… He hurt Danny! _Danny…_" Her voice rises to a wail and she covers her face with her hands.

We don't wait any longer, and gentle as we can, push Miss Monroe outta the way and dash into the buildin' where a terrible sight faces us. Stoppin' still as stone, I grab hold of Don's arm, my heart almost stoppin' its beat. Lyin' on the floor, blood splashed about them and on them, are three figures - Mr Messer and two other men.

Not a one of em's movin'; not a one of em's showin' any sign of life.

**Many thanks for reading; if you've enjoyed this, or even if not, I'd really, really appreciate a review! It's taken me a while to write this chapter, so I'd love to know what you thought of it. Thank you, Lily x**

**PS 'Hidden Agenda' has also been updated recently, and 'Big Sky Country' will be soon**


	18. Mac Taylor and Miss Stella

**Disclaimer****: I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author****: Lily Moonlight**

**Notes:**** Chapter 18: The Sheriff awakes and considers the big issues - life, death and what he has to say to Stella  
**

**Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help with writing, and I love knowing what you think. Thanks to **_**Brinchen86, Forest Angel, sarramaks **_**and**_** ballettmaus**_** for discussion; thanks for the pokes to update from**_** Andorian Ice Princess-AIP, afrozenheart412, fractured-fairytale06, cmaddict **_**and**_** DNAisunique**_**, and thanks to **_**iluvcsi4ever **_**for reading this chapter and making me an icon :D**

**Dedicated to **_**Blue Shadowdancer**_

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 18: Mac Taylor and Miss Stella

Mac:

Reckon I must've been asleep a while… Feel sorta caught between wakin' and sleepin'. Hope this state don't last too long; I ain't a man who likes sleepin'. Miss too much when you're asleep. Been aware of things happenin' around me for a little while now, but ain't been able to join in. Gotta fix that. Most importantly, I gotta make sure Stella's all right and then make sure I ain't missed anythin' of note. Doesn't do for the Sheriff of a town to be sleepin' while things are happenin'.

Seem to be having a bit of trouble gettin' myself to full awareness though. Reckon it's 'cause my body's had somethin' of a pummelling and it's takin' its time to get itself goin' again. I know I been lyin' here a bit of time. Remember some of what's happened and what's been happenin' round me, but only bits and pieces after fallin' through the floor.

Remember hearin' voices not so long ago, though it's hard to keep track of time when you've been sleepin' a while. Heard a few different voices, that I do know, includin' one I know almost better than I know my own voice. Stella's. Couldn't entirely make out what she was sayin', but it didn't matter. Sound of her voice was all I needed to hear, 'cause it told me she was alive and safe. Was content just to listen, words weren't important. Did wonder if she wanted me to say somethin' back to her though. Was that why she was speakin? Reckon I might've heard her sayin' my name. Seem to recall sayin' _somethin' _back to her, but can't remember exactly what it was… Might've been somethin' about her, but what _specifically_ remains a blank. Seem to recall after I'd said whatever I did, that her voice got a little agitated.

Hope I didn't say anythin' that caused her upset or offence…

Guess once I'm awake and back in the land of the livin' I can ask her myself. Course, openin' my eyes is the first step towards that, but it seems to be a harder task than I thought. Don't seem to have the strength I need to do it. Still seem to be sorta' stuck halfway between asleep and awake. Got an awareness of things around me, but can't kinda reach them. Gotta _concentrate_…

Can hear a voice again, but it ain't Stella's this time. Don't know whose it is, though I know I know it… It's sayin' somethin' about wakin' up… Wakin' up and gettin' somethin' to eat…

Which makes me realise it's Mrs Hammerback's voice. But why am I hearin' her voice? Maybe I'm dead and gone to heaven. No, sure _that_ ain't the case. Come on, Taylor! If I was dead, would I be hearin' the voice of Martha Hammerback? Likely not, but then, I ain't ever been dead before, so I couldn't say for sure. Though why Mrs Hammerback's in the same room as me when I've been asleep, I can't figure out neither. Don't know what Hammerback himself would have to say on that matter…

Now he's a man who thinks a lot about death. Guess that's understandable, given his profession. He ain't averse to sharin' his thoughts, but I gotta confess, usually I close my ears when he starts talkin' about certain things. Maybe I oughtta listen a little more in future, 'cause I'm wonderin' now what his thoughts on the afterlife are. Wonder if Mrs Hammerback features in his?

That's enough though! This ain't the kinda thing that's gonna get my eyes open. I ain't gonna waste time wonderin' about the afterlife, when I got plenty of time still to spend in _this_ life. Plenty of things still to do and all, like askin' Stella an important question. The afterlife's gonna have to wait a while yet. But before I can be askin' any questions, I gotta wake up first.

Huh. Easier said than done. Keep tryin' to get my eyelids open and my mind out of this sorta' dream state, but it ain't happenin'. Reckon I been lyin' and dreamin' a fair bit of time, and it ain't so easy to get out of it. Don't remember much about the dreams, but I know Stella was in them. Guess that ain't so unusual. Sleep ain't somethin' I indulge in often, but when I do, then my mind dreams about her and us, and all kinds of pleasant things we could be doin' together. Things, if I'm honest with myself, I hope we might get around to doin' someday not too far in the future. Don't ever tell her about them though, as it wouldn't be a gentlemanly thing to do. Especially when some of those dreams are ones a gentleman should keep to himself. They ain't proper for a lady to hear, or to be shared with company. Still, a man's gotta dream, and if he can't dream about the woman he loves and hopes to marry, then who can he dream about?

Dreaming's all fine and good, however, this ain't the time for it. Because I realise that I still ain't actually _told_ Stella that she's the woman I love and hope to marry…

Seem to becoming a bit more aware of things now though. Reckon I'm lyin' in a bed, 'cause it's warm and soft beneath me. Don't feel that terrible freezin' cold that I thought was gonna take the life from me down in those gunpowder works. Gotta confess, when I was lyin' in the dark after Stella had gone, I thought I was livin' my last moments. But I knew I didn't want to end my life that way, alone in the dark and cold. Knew I had to hold on for Stella. Thought of her kept me alive. She risked her life, even though I didn't want her to, goin' ridin' off by herself to get help.

Almost tore me in half that did; didn't want her to put her life at risk, but I knew that if she'd stayed there with me, then neither of us would've got out of there. Felt ashamed with myself though, for gettin' trapped under all that wood and unable to help myself. Stella shouldn't have had to take a risk like that to save me. Certainly weren't dreams that were in my head whilst I was lyin' there trapped under that beam, no, it were nightmares of the darkest kind. Nightmares about Stella lost in the snow, fallin' off Blaze, caught by the wolves and overtaken by the cold. Kept myself hangin' onto consciousness as long as I could down there, waitin' for her, waitin' to know she was all right, _willing_ her to be all right and get back to the town safely.

And she made it. She made it back. I held on long enough to hear her voice again callin' down to me, then I knew she was safe. After that, don't remember much more. Got too dark and too cold, couldn't keep my eyes open much after that. Hurt too much. Things started sorta fadin' away from me then… Just a few things I recall, few pieces of memory… people callin', ropes comin' down beside me, brushin' over my face then bein' tied round me… bein' pulled up outta the darkness, then Stella's face lookin' into mine, her arms holdin' me tightly… She didn't let go of me. Maybe I ain't remembering it clearly, but I could swear I saw tears in her eyes. Maybe it's my mind playin' tricks though. Stella ain't a woman who cries, least she don't in the company of others. Can count on one hand the number of times I've seen tears fall from her eyes.

Seem to be slowly gettin' back to consciousness. Can hear Mrs Hammerback's voice clear as anythin' now. She's speakin' my name, so I guess I'd better try and answer. Still can't seem to get the words that are in my mind outta my mouth though. Real frustratin' that is. But I'm gettin' more aware of things. Aware of how much my ribs are hurtin' for one thing. Guess that's what bein' trapped under a whole heap of wood does for you. Sure don't do a man's ribs good. Still, least I know that if I'm feelin' pain, then it's fairly certain I ain't dead.

Know that when I do make it to bein' fully alert and awake, which ain't far off, then it's gonna hurt like hell. Had broken ribs a few times before - bein' Sheriff of a town means you gotta expect a few broken bones now and again - and it ain't ever a thing to enjoy. It's a thing to be endured till they heal up, but I ain't a man to complain. Just gonna grit my teeth and get through it. Other times when it's happened, I've had the good fortune to be cared for by Stella, usually after she's spoken her mind to me and let me know her disapproval of how those ribs have got broken in the first place. I don't mind all that though, as she usually finishes up her tellin' off with a sigh, a shake of her head, and then a kiss on the cheek for me. Reckon a kiss from Stella is worth the pain of a few cracked ribs.

Reckon too I can't be complainin' about a little discomfort after what Stella did, ridin' back through a blizzard which was cold enough to freeze your very bones. I'm thankful I'm alive, and that I got the woman I love still alive with me.

So, with that thought, I know I gotta stop all this dallying about, get my eyes open, and make sure that the woman I love _knows _that I love her! I've held off tellin' her for too long. I ain't forgotten how she told me to wait until we were both safe and out of danger to say what I was gonna say, but we've both waited long enough…

"Mr Taylor? Mr Taylor? Are you waking up, my love?"

Mrs Hammerback's voice is as clear as day, and it sounds like she's speakin' real close to my ear. Then I'm wonderin' why it ain't Stella's voice speakin' that close to me. Gets me real worried suddenly. Where is she? Surely it weren't all dreams about her voice speakin' earlier? Surely she ain't come to no more harm? Only one way to find out…

Get my eyes open a crack, and light almost blinds me. Makes me close 'em again real quick…

Come on, Taylor! You been asleep long enough. A little light ain't gonna hurt. So I try again. Seems to take one heck of an effort, but I ain't givin' in and I force my eyes to open and _stay_ open this time. Takes a few blinks, but finally I realise my eyes are open, I'm awake and I'm alive.

"Mr Taylor! You're awake!"

Ain't no one but Mrs Hammerback who's got quite that knack of statin' an obvious fact. Try turnin' my head to look at her, still blinkin', 'cause everything's way too bright. A horrible kinda' thought strikes me again then - surely I ain't dead and this is heaven? Heaven's always described as bein' a bright kinda place…

Soon get rid of that thought though, I been through all that already. Don't reckon they got framed pictures of bowls of fruit on the walls of heaven neither, as that's the first thing that I get my eyes to focus on. Reckon also they don't have many angels that look like Martha Hammerback… though Mr Hammerback, and maybe even a hungry Don Flack might disagree with me there. Kinda hopin' that if I'm ever fit for a place in heaven, there'll only be one angel there, and she'll have green eyes and curls in her hair…

But I can't see her in the room, and now worry's gotten a grip on me. _Why_ ain't she here?

"Stella…"

That don't sound like my voice; can hardly hear it, sounds sorta' rusty, but can't seem to produce anythin' louder. I'm turnin' my head, tryin' to lift it off of the pillow, but I can't see Stella! Can only see the round, smiling face of Mrs Hammerback, and feel her hand against my forehead.

"Mr Taylor, hush now…"

"Where… where is she? Where's Stella?" I croak. I gotta know, whatever's happened, I gotta know!

Her hand pats mine, and her soft voice with the accent that's never lost its foreign sound speaks again.

"Now just you listen to me, Mr Taylor, there's no need for you to be fretting…"

"Is she alive? Is she all right? Please…"

"If you give me a chance to tell you, my lovely, I can reassure you that Miss Stella is alive and well."

Feels then like the light shinin' in my eyes has gotten a whole lot brighter. Stella's all right! But I want to see her, to know for sure. Not that I don't trust Mrs Hammerback, 'cause she's a soul you could trust your life and secrets with, but I can't feel sure till I've seen her myself.

"Where is she?"

Soon as I ask that, my voice sorta gives out and I find myself coughin', my throat feelin' dry as dust…

"You'll be wanting some water, my love."

Mrs Hammerback helps me sit up, proppin' a few pillows behind me, and hands me a glass of water. I'm real grateful for her mind reading skills, and can't deny a glass of water's a welcome thing, but there's something more important I need. As if in answer to that, and as if to prove that Stella's the person who knows my mind better than anyone, there's the sound of footsteps hurrying along outside the room and next moment, the door's flung open and the woman I owe my life to comes flying over to me.

"Oh, _Mac!_ Mac, you're awake!"

With a cry, she's wrapping her arms round me and pressing a kiss to my cheek. Find my arms around her, holding her as tight as I can. Not as tightly as I'd like, but for now, all that matters is that's she in my arms and we're both alive and safe.

"Oh, Mac…" she murmurs, her head nestling into the crook of my neck. Though it's still a little stiff, I raise my arm and stroke my hand through her hair, and feel the worry and fear in me start to be soothed away.

Gotta own that I'd be content to stay like this all day, but after a minute, my ribs let me down, and I can't help a small hiss of pain escapin' me as I shift about. Stella pulls back with a look of concern on her face.

"Did I hurt you?" she asks, keepin' hold of my arms, her eyes studying my face closely.

"You didn't hurt me," I tell her truthfully. "Wouldn't care even if you had. It's thanks to you I'm still here and able to feel a bit of discomfort… Which weren't nothing to do with you," I add hastily. "Just got myself in an awkward position…"

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat, and I suddenly become aware of the position that me and Stella are in - she's half-lyin' across the bed, holdin' onto me and I'm in the bed, wearin' probably not much more than a nightshirt. Guess it could be seen by some as bein' a little awkward and improper, but only to those who are too narrow-minded to see beyond. Besides, Stella's fully dressed, even if I ain't.

However, Mrs Hammerback certainly ain't a narrow-minded woman, certainly ain't narrow-waisted either, but that's neither here nor there… What matters is that she's lookin' at us with a smile, and there's no mistakin' the twinkle in her eyes.

"I think the two of you might like a minute or two by yourselves, my lovelys, as I know you've both got lots to say to each other. How about I potter downstairs and check on my Sidney, and then bring you both up something to eat and drink? How does that sound?"

Stella jumps to her feet and smoothes down her dress, and there ain't no mistakin' the blush in her face as she answers. "That'd be real kind of you, Mrs Hammerback, if it ain't too much trouble. Reckon Mac's in need of something in his stomach after bein' asleep all this time."

Mrs Hammerback takes both Stella's hands in hers. "Mr Taylor isn't the only one in need of something to eat and drink, my love. When was the last time anything passed your lips? I have a strong suspicion you haven't touched a morsel since yesterday, and that can't be good for you. Now don't you say a word in protest," she continues as Stella seems about to speak. "It's no trouble to bring something for you _both_. You've had a worrying time, and you can't deal with worries on an empty stomach. By my estimation, it's long past lunchtime, and long past time you ate something!"

"That'd be real nice of you," Stella replies meekly. "Guess I _could_ eat a little something…"

"Then it's settled!" Mrs Hammerback beams. "I won't be long, just long enough for you to reassure yourselves you're both all right."

With a broad smile, she bustles out of the room, and we're left alone. Now the moment's come for talking, both of us are struggling for the right things to say. Stella stands there fidgeting with her fingers, her eyes fixed on the ground, and I find myself tongue-tied temporarily. After a few awkward moments, I realise I'm gonna have to break the silence.

"You gonna sit down?" I say, realisin' that ain't really what I wanted to say, but it's gonna have to suffice for now.

Stella looks up at me briefly, before casting her eyes to the floor again, but she sits down, this time on the chair next to the bed. Then she gives a heavy sigh, and finally looks back into my eyes.

"Mac…" she starts to say, but I find myself reaching out and clasping her hand, knowing I gotta speak and tell her things before the chance is lost.

"Stella… before you say anythin' more, I gotta tell you what I was gonna say when we were in the gunpowder works, before you left to get help. Remember? Remember I was gonna tell you somethin' and you told me I had to wait till we were both back here safe?"

She nods, her eyes wide and fixed on me, her other hand now on top of mine, so my hand's safe in between hers. "I remember," she whispers.

I swallow, lowering my gaze, and then raise my eyes, not wanting to lose sight of hers. "I… I was gonna tell you, and I know I should've told you before now, 'cause it shouldn't take a near-death experience to get a man to share his feelings, but…"

"It's all right," she says, and moves closer to me, so I feel like I'm almost becoming lost in her gaze. Her eyes are drawing me in and for a moment it renders me unable to speak. Both of us are starin' at each other, my heart's hammering in my chest, and I get the feelin' that I maybe don't need to speak, that we're understandin' between us everythin' we need to. But I know that even so, there are still some words you gotta say out loud, because a woman needs to hear them, and a man needs to say them. So I take a deep breath, and open my mouth to let her know exactly what's in my heart.

"Stella, you mean more to me…"

But fate intervenes before I can finish my sentence, and we're interrupted by a brisk knock on the door. Both of us look at each other, and with rueful smiles and a light pressure of our fingers together, acknowledge that we're gonna have to wait a little longer.

"It's fine, Mac," Stella whispers. "You'll get the chance soon enough." And she caresses my face before calling out for whoever's knocking to come in.

It's Hawkes who makes his entrance, looking a little rumpled in appearance, but still bright and alert. Casting his eyes over both of us, he wastes no time in giving us short shrift over our adventures the previous day. Studying Stella's appearance when she's concentratin' on answering Hawkes back, I can see how she ain't got the usual colour in her face, and that she's got a fair number of bruises, scratches and scrapes over her skin. Gives me more than a tug of guilt to my heart, knowin' that ultimately I'm the one to blame.

"You're more than lucky you didn't get any infection from these scratches, or suffer any ill effects of hypothermia and frostbite," Hawkes says severely, as he rolls back the sleeves of her dress to look over her arms. "Never known the likes of you two for getting out of trouble by the skin of your teeth."

Stella looks a little chastened, and I busy myself in takin' some sips of water, before he turns his attention to me.

He stays with us a while, talkin' and checkin' I'm healin' up to his satisfaction, and it ain't long before Mrs Hammerback returns with food and drink, meaning Stella and I don't get so much as a second alone. Between them, they fill me in on everythin' that's happened, most importantly, the disappearance of Miss Monroe and Daniel Messer, and how Don and Miss Angell have ridden out to find them. That's news to make a man frown, and it makes me even more determined that I ain't gonna be spendin' any more time than I have to out of the action.

Soon as Hawkes has left the room, murmuring somethin' about finding out where Miss Higgins is, Mrs Hammerback announces that I should get some more sleep. Sleeping's the last thing I want to be doin', however, and I tell her so. And tell her that I ain't gonna be stayin' in bed a moment longer. At that, Stella's face draws into a frown and I know she's gonna object, however, I ain't gonna listen to her.

So after a short time of arguments flyin' back and forth between the three of us, we end up with Stella waitin' outside the door, and Mrs Hammerback helpin' me outta bed and back into my clothes, because, as she puts it, she's a married lady and used to seein' men in all kinds of states of undress. Usually Stella's the only woman who can bring heat to my cheeks, but Mrs Hammerback manages it with just one sentence. Won't ever be able to look at her husband the same again...

Gotta admit, gettin' dressed causes me more than a few intakes of breath and bitten back curses. Cracked ribs and the other knocks and bumps I took sure are painful. But I manage it, and it ain't too long before I'm limpin' over to the door, helped by Mrs Hammerback. Soon as I'm through it, Stella's at my side, and even though she's shakin' her head at me in a despairin' kinda way, she puts her arm round me, and takin' it carefully, we make our way downstairs and back into the midst of everythin'.

Barely have time to be greeted warmly by all the folks that seem to be crowded into the Saloon, folks such as Hammerback, Miss Higgins, Ross, and the Angells, before there's a shout from outside. Followin' a little slower behind everyone, with Stella still supporting me, we make our way to the door, and folks stand aside to let us move to the front. We're greeted by the sight of Don and Miss Angell riding up Main Street, with a wagon in tow behind their horses. Sittin' behind Miss Angell is an exhausted Miss Monroe, and propped up behind Don, is a battered and bleeding Daniel Messer. There's a story to be told there, but for the moment, all that matters is that they're alive.

Miss Higgins and Hawkes hasten over and rush them indoors pretty smartly, helped by Miss Angell, leavin' Don to come stridin' over to us. Brushin' aside the questions he fires at me in the way of what am I doin' up and out of bed, I demand some answers from him. Contentin' himself with a glare at me and Stella, he indicates for us to follow him over to the wagon, where watched by a hushed crowd of onlookers, he pulls back the front of it to reveal two men tied back to back. Both are covered in cuts and bruises and one of them has a roughly bandaged wound to his shoulder.

"Meet Louie Messer and his pal Buck Gibbons," Don announces, contempt clear in his voice. "Responsible for the kidnapping of Danny Messer and Lindsay Monroe, and, according to their sorry selves, responsible for the delivery of a message to the Sheriff of Hattanville. Matter of life and death they say…"

"You got that right," one of the men slurs, fixing bleary eyes on me. "If you value your life, you'll listen up good, Sheriff... 'Cause if you don't, you and the whole of this two-bit town are facin' a certain and terrible death."

A trickle of blood runs from the corner of his mouth and he gives a wheezing laugh that echoes in the silence that's fallen all around us.

**Slightly shameless request - I'm under enforced rest for a couple of weeks and a little fed up, so I'd **_**really**_** appreciate reviews, and promise to send rambling and hopefully entertaining replies to them :D Thanks, Lily x**

**PS 'Hidden Agenda' updated recently as well!**


	19. Strangers In Town

**Disclaimer: I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author: Lily Moonlight**

**Notes: Chapter 19: Threats and thoughts; Stella is occupied by both. **

**Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help with writing, and I love knowing what you think. Thanks to **_**fractured-fairytale06, suallenparker, cmaddict, Blue Shadowdancer **_**and**_** Ballettmaus**_** for discussion and help with this.**

**Dedicated to _Brinchen86_ and _DNAisunique_  
**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 19: Strangers In Town

Stella

Can feel Mac's body tense the moment that no-good outlaw speaks. I barely manage to suppress a snort of disbelief; we're facin' a certain and terrible death? From _him_? Don't think so! If they think they're any kinda match for the citizens of Hattanville, then they got reality about to kick 'em good and hard. Reckon if Mac weren't limping and still kinda' woozy, he'd be kickin' 'em himself, right outta town before their feet even had a chance to hit the ground. And I'd be right alongside him too; got good sturdy boots, useful for kickin' out anyone that causes trouble in the Saloon... Least, I never in truth had to do any _actual _kickin', wouldn't be entirely ladylike. Had Mac and Don throw out a few drunken law-breakers now and again; and although I prefer to handle things myself, reckon it's good to have the security of their throwin' out skills to hand. Mac don't stand anyone makin' threats against me.

Can handle most myself easily – better than most men can handle their liquor; just give anyone who's lurchin' towards me in a drunken fashion a shove to their stomachs and they generally topple over and cause no more trouble after that. Sorta' hard for a man to cause trouble when he's lyin' on the floor of the Saloon, droolin' out the side of his mouth and snorin' loud enough to shake the timbers of the place.

But threats against the town, well, that's somethin' _none_ of us are gonna stand for. Reckon the best thing we can do for this sorry pair is give 'em some cooling off time in the cells. Seems Mac's had the same idea as he tells 'em what he thinks of them and their so called warnin', matchin' my opinion exactly, which ain't surprisin'.

"Just who do you pair of lily-livered outlaws think you are, huh? Think you can kidnap two of my people and then go givin' out _warnings?_ You low-lives got some learnin' to do, and you can do that learnin' inside one of our cells," he snarls, and the colour of his eyes changes to a real stormy grey.

Ha! This pair ain't gonna know what's hit 'em. Gotta own though, there's somethin' compellin' about Mac's eyes when he's angry...

"Don't take kindly to threats and warnings in this town, and don't take kindly to folks bein' kidnapped. So here's what's gonna happen," he turns to Don who's glarin' at the two men with his arms folded across his chest. "My Deputy's gonna take you over to the Sheriff's office and get you settled under lock and key, keep you there for a while, give you plenty of time for thinkin'. Reckon hard wooden cots and stone floors are good for a man's thinkin'. Then when we're ready, me and him are gonna stroll back over and ask you some questions, 'cause I got a few I want answers to."

"You heard the Sheriff," Don pulls down the back of the wagon. "Consider yourselves lucky you ain't lyin' dead in that there straw about to be shown to your last resting place. Guess our undertaker wouldn't have been sorry to fill up a couple of pine boxes with the likes of _you_."

As he says this, the man who spoke the warnin', and whose surname I gotta find out more about – another Messer in town sure is a matter for discussion - spits into the straw and sneers. A real black look descends onto Don's face, and he manhandles them off the wagon, assisted by Lenny Cody and John Carter.

"Get 'em outta my sight," Mac growls.

"Nothin' would make me happier," Don seizes the collar of the man who issued us our warnin', shakin' him hard. "You sorry pair are facin' a whole heap of trouble, and you ain't gonna be able to wriggle out of it by issuin' us warnings. Now _move!_"

Kickin' and attemptin' to swing punches, even though the wound in his shoulder's oozin' blood, the man named as Louie Messer is hauled off along with his companion. Now, _he_ ain't said a word in all this exchange, nor made any physical protests and that's got me wonderin' what the deal there is. Seems he's taken a blow to the head, as there's a red sorta' swelling on his forehead. Maybe that's what's knocked all the fight outta him. Guess when they're questioned later, we'll find out more. Mac may not have mentioned it explicitly, but I fully intend to be present when there's questionin' goin' on.

Know Don's gonna be _real_ mad over what's happened; Daniel Messer and he are good friends, despite, or maybe because of the differences in their characters. Don's a straight-livin' sorta' man in general, and Messer... well, let's say he don't always take the straight and narrow. Reckon it's down to Don, and Lindsay of course, that he's done as well as he has; keepin' himself outta trouble for the main part and seemin' like he's happy to settle down and become a husband.

Mac and me try to do what we can as well to keep him occupied. Bein' idle's the worst thing for a man like Daniel Messer; gives him time to come up with wild schemes, and wagers. Still, he's proved mighty useful in takin' on such jobs as fixin' roofs - when he ain't climbin' on and fallin' back off of 'em that is. Honestly, I was more than relieved to see both him and Lindsay returned to town in one piece; the town'd be a sorry place without either of them. Soon as we're finished out here, I'm gonna make sure myself that they ain't taken too much harm.

As we're standin' watchin' those low-lives who kidnapped 'em taken away, the crowd that's gathered to see all this lets loose a few jeers and shouts, affirmin' what Mac's said; Hattanville don't take kindly to bein' threatened. May only be a small town, but its citizens ain't small in character.

Reckon we've had just about enough in the way of threats. Gotta shake my head in disbelief at the things we've had to endure; don't seem fair that a town such as ours should have faced the threat of destruction and the kidnappin' of two citizens in the space of two days. Not to mention the danger Mac and I unintentionally found ourselves in... So maybe we might've been a _little_ to blame for that, ridin' out in a blizzard and all, even though it was done with the best intentions. But I guess even things done with the best intentions don't always work out how you hope.

And all this after the town had been havin' a particularly peaceful period too, right up until that letter arrived. Remember clearly what was happenin' the day before we received it, and how happy I was feelin'. I'd made Mac dinner, as somethin' of an apology for yellin' at him after he got himself knocked unconscious by a drunken customer, and we were sittin' in the bar of the Saloon after closin'. Just the two of us, talkin' about everythin' and nothin'. It's times like those I love the most, when we've time to be ourselves,_ just_ ourselves, without the weight of the world, as it seems at times, on Mac's shoulders.

He was smilin' and contented, enjoyin' the meal I'd prepared, and I remember sittin' across from him, watchin' the light of the candles glowin' on his face. Reckon I probably had a glow on my own face; Mac does that to me, gives me a glow inside and out. Remember him sayin' sorta wistfully as he was gazin' round the bar that we don't get enough times together on our own...

Which brings to mind what he was sayin' earlier, when he weren't entirely aware of himself and his surroundings. Now, I've lived a few years on this earth, and I've lived through a fair few experiences and all, meanin' I ain't so naive about many matters, includin' what happens between a man and a woman, whether they're married or not. Though it's gotta be said, in a small town like Hattanville, generally folks prefer it if they _are_ married. But I ain't gonna make, and I ain't entitled to make, judgements on folks about that sorta thing. I know exactly what Mac was wishin' for, even though he'd never in ordinary circumstances be so bold as to talk about it, and especially not in the company of Don Flack and Mrs Hammerback. It maybe ain't somethin' a lady should be thinkin' about, however, I gotta confess, although my cheeks were blushin' at his words, I weren't entirely unhappy to know Mac Taylor had that kind of imagination...

Huh, if I ain't careful, I'm gonna be lettin' _my_ mind wander along the ways of thinkin' about walks in the rain and evenings alone with him in the bar. And _on_ the bar...

Geez! Better stop myself right there and be thankful no one here's got the ability to read minds. Though that'd maybe be a useful skill to have in many instances, and I guess Mac and I kinda have that ability at times to know what each other's thinkin'... So, sneakin' a quick glance at him, and seein' he's starin' at the retreatin' figures of Don and company, I decide I'd better keep a check on my mind. Just in case.

Mac's fantasies ain't gonna be somethin' I'm gonna embarrass him with. Can't speak with such authority about Don though. Got somethin' of a teasin' and mischievous nature to him at times has Don, and I didn't miss the laugh he was tryin' to stifle when Mac was sharin' his secrets. Still, can only deal with that situation when it arises, and try and recall somethin' I might be able to use as a... let's call it a _guarantee_, 'cause blackmail's an ugly sorta' word. Maybe somethin' about bets placed on folks....

Reckon I might be lettin' my thoughts run on though, 'cause right at this moment, we got plenty more important things to be occupyin' our minds and bodies. Still don't know for sure how Lindsay and Mr Messer are, though I know they'll be in good hands with Hawkes lookin' after them. The folks of Hattanville sure do keep him busy...

"Stella?"

Kinda' blink and realise Mac's givin' me a quizzical look, with a trace of amusement in his eyes. "Everythin' all right? Looked like you were thinkin' about somethin' important. Got somethin' on your mind?"

If he only knew the half of it... sure hope he don't take a guess. Mind readin' abilities, huh. Yeah, reckon Mac comes close to havin' them. Heat sorta sweeps over my face, and I hear myself givin' a false sorta' laugh. "Fine Mac, everything's fine. Was just wonderin' about Lindsay and Mr Messer, and guess I let myself slip into somethin' of a daydream..."

Of course, what I_ don't_ add is what a big part of that daydream was about.

He raises his eyebrow, but says nothin' more. He's still got his arm placed around me, for support of course. Gotta admit, the feel of his fingers restin' ever so gentle on my waist is somethin' that feels just right.

A comfortable silence falls between us for the moment as we wait for Don to re-emerge from the Sheriff's Office. Folk start driftin' back to their houses, now the main entertainment's over, and I find my thoughts driftin' again.

Don't get the chance as often as I'd like to have Mac this close to me; too much contact between an unmarried gentleman and lady is sorta frowned on. Seems a lot of pleasurable things are sorta frowned on, and though I don't live my life worryin' too much 'bout other folks morals, guess I gotta respect certain conventions. Don't mean I have to agree with them though, and don't mean I can't always bend them a little for my own purposes. Heck, the very fact I'm an independent lady runnin' her own Saloon kinda flies in the face of many folks' conventions. Guess that's why I take a great deal of pride in it. It's taken me years to get the Star Saloon the reputation it's got; a reputation as the sorta place folks want to come to and spend time in. Taken time for me to make sure of my good reputation too, but I succeeded on my own and I'm real proud of _that_.

Done a lot of things on my own; but I've known I've got someone I could rely on if I needed to. He ain't a man to push himself forwards but Mac's the truest and most loyal friend I got. We've been trusted friends for years; more years than I like to admit, 'cause a girl's gotta keep some secrets about her age after all. However, it's enough to say we've had more than enough time to know each other's fine points and even faults. Gotta own, I got plenty of faults myself; folks say I'm stubborn and quick tempered, maybe even a little impetuous at times, and I ain't gonna argue against that. Mac too; sure, he's a little impetuous and stubborn himself, and makes the occasional rash judgment, but when you weigh that up against the depth of his loyalty and his care for others, well then, it's somethin' I can live with.

Guess it's the same for Lindsay and Daniel Messer. The man ain't short of faults, but she's seen the good hidin' behind them and has brought them outta hidin' a little more...

"Stella!"

Sorta jump then and have to press my hand to my heart; Mac's voice fair startled me! What in heck's the matter with me? Keep driftin' off into memories and musings. Which really ain't the thing to do when you're standin' out in the middle of Main Street, a few flakes of snow tumblin' outta the sky and your feet startin' to turn to blocks of ice. My hands would be too, were it not for the fact that in the time my mind's been wanderin', Mac's taken a hold of one of them.

"Sorry, guess I was thinkin' again," I tell him, feelin' a little embarrassed, and tryin' to ignore the tingles shootin' through me at the feel of his hand enclosin' mine. "Were you sayin' somethin'?"

He gives me an amused look. "Was sayin' that it'd be a good idea to get back indoors. Wouldn't you agree?"

Shiftin' carefully on the leg that ain't hurt, he gestures towards the street which since I last looked at it has emptied. "Seein' as everyone else has."

"What about Don and the others?"

In answer to that, the man in question emerges from the Sheriff's Office, closely followed by Lenny and John. Banging his hands together for warmth, he calls out to us as he strides over.

"Got 'em locked up, and in the case of Messer, cussin' fit to make your ears burn."

"They say any more to you?" Mac asks as Don reaches us, and shifts a little as a grimace passes over his face. I'm guessin' his ribs and leg are troublin' him more than he's lettin' on. No way he's gonna be tellin' anyone he's in pain though; means I gotta find a way of relievin' him without him havin' to tell anyone. Stubborn pride of that man sometimes makes me shake my head. Guess it really ain't fair of _me_ to criticise him for that way of thinkin' though.

Don scowls. "Nope. Refused. Messer said he'd only speak with the Sheriff... Told him he'd have to wait for that pleasure."

"Nice work," Mac tells him, and nods at John and Lenny. "You two as well. Appreciate your assistance."

"Any time, Sheriff," John touches his hat to him. "Pleased to help out where I can."

"Same goes for me," Lenny rumbles and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Didn't like seein' how they'd hurt Miss Lindsay and Daniel. Made me real mad."

They're good men, John and Lenny; ain't never had any trouble when they're in the Saloon. Two of 'em come most nights to drink down a couple of glasses of bourbon. That's their limit though; they ain't like some folks who don't know when they've reached theirs, and that polite behaviour ain't possible after downin' ten neat shots of liquor. After raisin' their hats to me, they stroll off down the street, so now it's just the three of us.

"Guess we should head back indoors, huh?" I say, echoin' Mac's words. He won't mind me takin' credit for them.

Don gives me a smirk. "First sensible idea you've had in a while, Stell. What's happenin' to you? Did the knock on your head yesterday knock some cautious thinkin' into you?"

He chuckles, but it soon dies away when I fix him with my best smile; the one I save for special occasions; occasions when someone ain't pleased me.

"Maybe a knock on the head'd benefit _you_ in the way of learnin' some polite speakin', Don Flack."

He looks a little sheepish, and at least has the grace to apologise. "Weren't meanin' to be rude..."

I shoo him forwards, relentin' a little. "Apology accepted, now you best go on ahead, 'cause Mac and me might be walkin' a little more slowly than you, seein' as neither of us has the same length of leg."

"Sure," Don nods, with a quick grin of understandin'.

"We'll see you in there," Mac says to him, squeezin' my hand. "We're gonna need to have some discussion about this latest happening."

"Absolutely."

With another grin at us 'cause he ain't easily suppressed, he swings off down the street.

Mac gives me a smile, and the pressure of his fingers increases. "You know, I'm real lucky I got you at my side, Stella."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," I tell him softly, dustin' a few flakes of snow off the lapel of his coat. "Consider myself lucky to be there."

He shakes his head. "I'm the lucky one..."

Then he leans in a little closer to me, and I'm suddenly aware of how close his face is to mine, and how his breath's sorta stirrin' my hair. Reachin' out, his eyes never leavin' mine, he brushes, ever so gently, a stray snowflake out of my curls. "We never got to finish our conversation earlier," he says, his voice low.

Takin' his other hand, I clasp it tight, my thumb movin' over it. "Conversations ain't always so important... Least they ain't when the people involved know and understand each other so good they know what the other is thinkin'..."

I pause, and read the look in his eyes, feelin' pulled into the depths there. "But... I know sometimes you feel you gotta say out loud even what those two people are certain of already. I understand that, Mac. We'll get the time and the place right, I promise."

He breathes out slowly, his breath hangin' in a white cloud. His gaze never leaves mine. "You're a wise woman, Stella," he says in a quiet tone.

"So it's been said before," I smile, half-droppin' my eyelid in a wink. "Wise, and right more often than not."

"So you've said yourself, many times before," his mouth quirks into a grin and he seizes my free hand before I can swat him on the arm. Then his face changes again, his expression becomin' almost shy, and his voice drops as he moves closer to me; one hand still holdin' mine, the other claspin' the top of my arm. His lips are almost touchin' my ear and my heart's suddenly thunderin' louder than river rapids as he speaks. "Reckon... I reckon it's one of the many things I love about you, Stella..."

Feel the world sorta' spinnin' to a halt there and then around me and I'm only half-aware that I'm still livin' and breathin'...

"Mac... I...you..." I'm trippin' over my words, feelin' dizzy; feelin' like his eyes are drownin' me... but I don't care, I don't care! I'm lettin' myself be whirled away in them.

There's the gentlest touch on my cheek and it takes me a moment to realise it's Mac's fingertips; softer than snowflakes against my skin.

"It's somethin' that should've been said _many_ times before," he breathes out deeply. "And it ain't even the half of all I gotta say to you... though I got a feelin' you know, seein' as how you're able to look straight into my mind most times."

Can't even begin to try and speak just yet. Words simply ain't possible. But, maybe, as we've both said, maybe words simply ain't needed. At this moment, both of us are sinkin' into a whole ocean of feelings; sinkin' blissfully too. Both of us'd be content to stay like this forever, hands joined, barely an inch between us, his lips almost grazin' mine...

Until reality, in the form of Don Flack's voice, pulls us right back to our present situation; namely that we're standin' in the middle of Main Street, a few yards from the Saloon, with snow whirlin' round us.

"Hey! You two gonna stay out there forever? Gonna catch your death of cold, so Mrs Hammerback says, and I'm sure you've both had enough brushes with death the last couple days..."

Some days I could happily cause the death of Don Flack myself.

Reckon he might realise that, as he disappears pretty damn quick through the Saloon doors, leavin' them swingin' when he catches the look I shoot him.

Sighin' heavily, I turn back to Mac, to be met with a smile turnin' up the corners of his mouth.

"Folk of this town seem to like interruptin' at unfortunate moments," he says. "But don't go killin' my Deputy, he's proven himself useful many a time."

"Well if I did, you could always take me on..."

His smile widens. "Then who'd be runnin' the finest Saloon in town?"

Before I can think of an answer, he's nudging me forwards. "Now, as you said yourself, possibly echoin' words of wisdom from someone else, we best do as he says and get inside."

Can't argue with him there, so takin' it steady, with my arm around Mac, lettin' the glow his words have given me warm me through and through, we head back to the Saloon.

It's a real welcomin' place to return to, and I'm happy to see it filled with folks. The Hammerbacks are still here, sittin' together by the hearth; Don and Miss Angell are standin' by the bar and I'm amused to note that both of them are mirrorin' each other, standin' with one foot on the floor, and one on the foot rail; and Hawkes and Miss Higgins are sittin' either side of Lindsay and Daniel Messer. Poor Lindsay looks beat; can see she's been cryin' as her eyes are all sorta red and swollen, and she's dabbin' at them with a handkerchief. Her fiancé ain't lookin' too good; kinda' slumped against her with his eyes half-closed, patches of blood over him and a bag of ice held to his head. Sight of him makes me wince; seems he's taken somethin' of a beatin', and it wouldn't surprise me to know it was to protect his girl. However, as Mac and I sit ourselves down opposite them and I get him settled in the best position for his sore ribs, we hear a most remarkable story.

As it unfolds, people's eyes grow wide on more than occasion, and Miss Higgins ain't able to hold herself back from a few whistles of surprise and exclamations as between them, Lindsay and Mr Messer tell us what happened.

What causes us most surprise is Lindsay's act of what I ain't able to call anythin' but heroism. Reckless heroism, sure, but then that's often how it goes. Can't blame the girl for that; sometimes you're faced with a situation, and you just gotta act; then find yourself actin' in ways that ain't usual. Seems after Daniel's brother, as of course Louie Messer turns out to be, made somethin' of a move towards her, Daniel intervened, as you'd expect. Got himself bashed around, leavin' Lindsay no choice but to attack and defend herself and her man. Managed to knock Buck Gibbons unconscious before stabbin' Louie Messer. Poor girl thought she'd killed 'em, which was the point when Miss Angell and Don arrived. Fortunately for Lindsay's state of mind, she hadn't. Don hauled 'em into their own wagon before tyin' 'em up good and tight, then the whole party rode back to town.

As the tale finishes, we're all silent, digestin' the information. So we got one problem solved; we got our kidnapped friends back safe, if a little sorry for themselves in the case of Daniel Messer, but we still ain't solved the problem of the Railroad Company or the warnin' Louie Messer has given us. But the warnin' could after all be the idle threat of a man sore at bein' caught, and nothin' to be taken seriously. Glance at Mac then and he meets my gaze.

"What do you think, Stella? Reckon we got anythin' to worry about from Mr Louie Messer?"

Everyone's eyes turn to me. "That I ain't so sure about..." I say slowly.

"Louie ain't a man to be trusted, even if he is my own brother," Mr Messer croaks. "Wouldn't take what he says with less than a pinch of salt."

The effort of talkin' seems to exhaust him then, and he flops back, closin' his eyes. Discussion continues round him, with everyone offerin' opinions. Till in the end, as the afternoon wears into evenin', we come to an agreement; Louie Messer and his friend are gonna be left till mornin'. They ain't posin' any threat to the town where they are, questionin' them can wait. The day's been a long one, and all of us are in sore need of sleep; even Mac don't argue when I put that to him, so I know he's gotta be _real_ tired.

Folks disperse then; Miss Higgins has been offered and has accepted a place to stay with the Hammerbacks, and Hawkes accompanies them over there, and Don and Miss Angell have insisted that Daniel and Lindsay go home with each of them. Glad to see that; Don'll keep a close eye on Daniel, and Lindsay will be safe with the Angells.

Which only leaves Mac and me; and leaves us in somethin' of a dilemma. Guess the right and proper thing would be for Mac to head over to his place, but lookin' out at the snow fallin' and the darkness, then I ain't happy for him to do that. I look at him lyin' back against the cushions, his eyelids droopin', and I make a bold decision.

"You're stayin' here tonight, Mac," I tell him, and one eye cracks open.

"I'm what?" he says, a little blurrily.

"You're stayin'. On the couch. Nothin' improper in that."

As long as certain older citizens of the town don't find out.

He utters a few half-hearted protests, but I ain't heedin' them as I settle him comfortably and pull a blanket over him. By the time I've done that, his eyes are closin' and I know he's gonna be asleep any moment.

"Thank you..." he murmurs, reachin' for my hand.

"Nothin' to thank for," I whisper.

"_Everythin'_ to thank for, Stella..."

He brings my hand to his lips and brushes the softest kiss on the back of it. Then as his eyes finally close, his fingers loose from mine, and his head falls back onto the cushions.

I whisper goodnight and the faintest smile appears on his face. Stand just watchin' him for a time, rememberin' everythin' that passed between us earlier. Gotta force myself away from him eventually, and I ain't ever climbed the stairs to my bedroom as slow as I do now. Can't seem to tear my eyes from him even though sleep's tuggin' at my eyelids. Stop half-way for a final look at him and can't stop a whisper passin' my lips.

"I love you too, Mac..."

Leavin' him finally I climb the stairs sighin' softly, and push the door to my bedroom open. Stand at the window for a moment lookin' out and thinkin', but it's then the words of Louie Messer echo back in my mind.

_A certain and terrible death_...

And a shiver seizes hold of me; a shiver that ain't anythin' to do with the cold. 'Cause lookin' out at the snow and the town, and the wide world beyond, I'm afraid of what's waitin' out there for us.

**Please review and let me know what you thought, good or bad. I hope you're still enjoying the story. Thanks, Lily x**


	20. Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author**** Lily Moonlight**

**Notes**** Chapter 20: The morning brings a shock for Flack. **

**Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help with writing, and I love knowing what you think. Thank you to **_**Blue Shadowdancer**_** for help and discussion with this chapter, to _Ballettmaus_ for help and discussion with this and a few other ideas, and **_**Brinchen86**_** (congratulations on your award!) for discussion of more ideas! Thanks also to **_**Shining Zephyr**_** for the LJ nomination**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 20: Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang

Flack:

Messer's snorin' wakes me _way_ too early for my likin'. Bein' rudely woken by a sound akin to a hurricane blowin' through the room ain't my idea of a happy start to the day. Course it don't wake the perpetrator of the snorin', heck no! He stays blissfully asleep on the bed leavin' me lyin' on the straw mattress on the floor, wide awake and cussin' my generosity in lettin' him lodge with me for the night. Still, wouldn't have been the right thing to do lettin' him stumble back to his own place alone after the events of the day. Might've gotten himself into more trouble. Man like Messer needs a close eye kept on him at all times; guess once he and Lindsay are married, I'll be passin' on most of that responsibility to her.

Got no chance now of gettin' back to sleep, so I'm just gonna lie here for a time, hands behind my head, thinkin' over all that's happened the last couple days. Thinkin' _and_ worryin', 'cause it's often the two go hand in hand, 'specially in the lonely hours of the mornin'.

What's worryin' me most is the threat still hangin' over us from the Railroad Company. We had Mac and Stell's escapade to distract us from that, and of course Messer and Lindsay's unfortunate experience, but now they're all back safe and sound, we gotta get ourselves focused again.

With all this snow, mail ain't gonna be gettin' through, so I don't expect we're gonna get any answer for a while yet to the letter Mac sent two days ago. Though in our favour, the snow'll likely delay the company themselves gettin' through. Railroad engines even with snow ploughs fitted to 'em, kinda struggle to make it to our little town after blizzards have swept through.

Can't understand all this business; we got a perfectly fine railroad station just outside of town, it don't need to be any bigger or nearer. Surely a town and its people are more important than a few more tracks and a fancier station? Guess that's the thinkin' of decent folks anyhow, but not the likes of Railroad folks. Nope, don't reckon they give a damn about us. Way I see it, it's all down to greed, and greed's a terrible thing. Greed for money 'specially; makes folks do all kinds of things they wouldn't normally do.

Man, these are deep thoughts to be thinkin' this early in the mornin', and before breakfast too! Ain't quite enough awake to be movin' yet though, another few minutes, then I'll stir myself. Can't take much more listenin' to this snorin'.

Lookin' up at the ceilin', I'm noticin' a large spider with real hairy legs spinnin' a web. Kinda hungry lookin' spider too - can practically see the fangs stickin' outta its mouth. Gets me thinkin' 'bout how easy it'd be to pluck it down from there and place it in Messer's open mouth; _that_ might stop his snorin'...

It's a temptin' thought, sure, but guess I ain't quite got the energy to do so. 'Sides, it ain't fair on the spider to subject it to bein' placed in Messer's mouth.

So, decidin' I ain't gonna do myself any good lyin' here listenin' to the vibrations of his nasal passages, I heave myself up, drag on a few more items of clothin' and give myself a darn good stretch. Sure is a good feelin', gettin' all my muscles to stretch and kinda crack. Make a good loud sound, real _satisfyin'_. Sadly, it ain't loud enough to wake Sleepin' Beauty; he just kinda moves his head from side to side, wrinkles his forehead and lets out another snore that near enough shakes the walls.

What the _heck_ was I thinkin' lettin' him sleep overnight?

Huh, guess that's what friends do though, and I'm fairly sure he'd do the same for me if I was ever in need of a place to stay. Didn't feel right lettin' him go back to his own lodgings after he was injured. Hell, when me and Miss Jessica burst into that place and saw him lyin' there on the floor, I ain't ashamed to admit I thought he was dead, and that thought near enough killed me too. Messer may be a man with a fair few faults to his character, snorin' bein' the least of them, but he's a friend, and as a friend, you gotta overlook certain faults. The snorin' though... _Man!_ Ain't easy to overlook that, or block the sound from your ears. Got a feelin' that Lindsay ain't gonna be thrilled about that. Makes me glad I ain't the one marryin' him...

Which is somethin' of a disturbin' thought, and not the kinda thought a Deputy Sheriff should be havin', no sir! Get a shudder runnin' through me then, and I leave the room real hasty, leavin' Messer to his snorin' by himself. Best think on other things. If I'm lucky enough to be married, then there's only one person - one _woman_ I want it to be. And I don't reckon Miss Jessica Angell snores.

Miss Jessica Angell... Now the thought of that lady, _my_ lady as I might be so bold as to call her, has brought a smile back to my face. Suddenly the mornin' don't seem quite so difficult. As I take a glance outta the landin' window, out at the snow that's settled overnight and the town lyin' peacefully, all its citizens fast asleep, then bein' up this early don't seem quite so bad. Though I'd rather be one of the fast asleep citizens than, as it seems, the lone wide awake one. This time of day, likely even Mac ain't awake yet.

Wonder where he slept last night? Huh. Now that's maybe an interestin' question, seein' as we left him and Stell by themselves in the Saloon last night. I've reached the landin' now, and I'm wonderin' about that... But if there's one thing all of us can be sure of, it's that Mac's a real chivalrous gentleman, and never one to overstep the lines of propriety. Stell too; she's a lady, and a lady who takes her good reputation real seriously. She don't stand for any slurs on it or scurrilous gossip about her. Though she ain't averse to keepin' an ear open herself to gossip that's goin' around town. Challenge her 'bout that now and again, and the reason she gives is that as a Saloon Owner, she can't help but hear gossip, and it's her duty to know what's goin' on in town, and hear all sides to a story.

Remember when I questioned her on the real reason she hosts quilting parties every Wednesday evenin' in the Saloon, and suggested in a round-about way that maybe it weren't due to the profit to be gained from sales of bourbon to little old ladies, but rather that they were a source of entertainin' gossip. She took a little offence, and it was only due to the fact that I'm quick and nimble in my movements, that I was able to dodge out of the way of her heel before it stamped down on my foot. Wasn't about to test how much protection my boots offered against the heels of an offended Saloon Owner. Always had a suspicion Stell deliberately chooses boots with extra sharp heels, and with extra pointy ends too 'cause she ain't averse neither to pokin' drunken customers in the ribs with the toe of her boot if they're snorin' too loud on the floor. Soon quietens 'em down. Maybe that's what I should've done to Messer...

As I'm makin' my way downstairs somethin' trips me, and I only just manage to grab a hold of the banisters in time to stop me tumblin' head over heels the whole way! Once I've recovered myself and finished all the cussin' I needed to do, bein' mighty glad Miss Jessica Angell ain't present, I look back and see what almost caused me to break my neck. A pair of Messer's boots. His only pair of boots. And the only reason Messer and his boots ain't in each other's company is 'cause I made him remove them last night. I gotta sleep in that bed again when he's out of it, and there ain't _no_ way I'm sleepin' where his boots have been. Value my life too much. Stink of 'em's enough to kill anyone who gets too close. Maybe we oughtta use 'em against the Railroad Company...

Can't help shakin' my head as I make my way down the last few stairs, feelin' a little shaken myself. To have been almost killed by Messer's boots... Would never have lived that kinda' death down. Feel tempted to take a hold of 'em and hurl 'em outta the window! Reckon they'd come walkin' back by themselves though. Been on the feet of Messer so long they're now a frightenin' shade of black. Keep tryin' to tell him he'd do himself a mighty big favour if he got himself smartened up, but he just laughs and tells me he's got more important things to do, and that folks should take him as he is; patched boots, patched clothes and all.

Sure, he's got a point, I'm thinkin' as I make my way into the kitchen; like to think folks judge me on my deeds and character not just my appearance, but I never underestimate the power of bein' smartly dressed. It don't hurt when you're tryin' to impress folk, especially one particular lady. Know for sure Miss Jessica Angell wouldn't be pleased if I turned up to call for her for our Sunday afternoon strolls wearin' a torn shirt and trousers. She's a beautiful well-dressed lady, and the least I can do for her is be clean and fittingly dressed in her presence, 'cause it's a presence that calls for my full attention and effort.

Can't stop a smile spreadin' over my face as I'm thinkin' about her while I get my breakfast. Only a few hours to go before I'll be seein' her again, seein' as we arranged last night to eat lunch together today. So the sooner I get myself goin' and over to sort things out at the Sheriff's Office with Messer's brother and his crony, sooner I'll be with her. In no time at all, I got coffee boilin' and a pan full of bacon, eggs and grits sizzlin'. Sadly, it's too early to be callin' on the Hammerbacks for breakfast. Wouldn't be polite, and even though I reckon Mrs Hammerback wouldn't mind, I don't want to take advantage of the lady's kindness.

Once I got my plate heaped up and a large mug of coffee in front of me, I sit down by the window and tuck in. Don't take long for the plate to be lookin' empty; always troubles me that, to see how fast a plate of food can disappear. One of them mysteries of life I ain't ever gonna be able to fathom. Still, least I got a few pieces of bacon left in the pan which it don't take me a moment to transfer to my plate.

Now, a stomach full of food and I'm ready to face pretty much anythin' I reckon. Sit back with a contented sigh, drain the last few dregs of coffee from my mug, and take a proper look out of the window. Sun ain't fully up yet, but it's light enough to see, and as I'm lookin' over towards the Saloon I see a mighty interestin' thing...

Well if that ain't somethin' to cause gossip amongst certain older members of the town, then I don't know what is! The door to the Saloon's opened and Stell has stepped out, closely followed by Mac. Meanin' my question of where the Sheriff of Hattanville spent the night has just been answered.

My eyebrows are near enough disappearin' off my forehead and if I don't close my mouth, I'm gonna be catchin' more flies in it than that fat ol' spider...

Gotta let out a low whistle and all. Who would have thought it? Not that I'm gonna be disapprovin' of 'em. And, after all, it _could_ be an entirely innocent thing; Stell's got a lotta rooms in that there Saloon of hers, Mac could've slept in any one of 'em...

But geez! Can rightly say, I'm in a mild state of shock. Though not as shocked as I was at his fevered confessions yesterday; confessions that I heard by chance of course. Wouldn't have thought him the kinda' man who thought along those lines, and now he's gone and surprised me again.

Makes me realise that even when you've known a man for years, he can still surprise you.

I'm pushin' my chair back a little, so's I can see out without risk of bein' seen... They're talkin' now, but 'cause this window don't open, I can't make out what they're sayin'. Darn it! They're standin' together pretty close though... And wait... Has he? Yep, Mac's taken hold of Stell's hand - raisin' it to his lips no less! She sure ain't objectin', fact, she's got a real happy smile on her face. I'm smilin' myself and all, seein' the two of 'em together. Sends a warm sorta' feelin' through me to see two people I care a deal about lookin' so happy together. Taken 'em long enough to get to this point, and taken a fair few life-threatenin' adventures to get through too...

Now if that ain't a moment to savour! Wait till I tell Miss Jessica 'bout this! Outside the doors of the Saloon, in full view of the admittedly empty street, Miss Bonasera and Sheriff Taylor are holdin' hands and leanin' in closer and closer to each other. Ain't quite made it yet... Almost though... Almost...

Suddenly I'm struck with a feelin' of guilt, rememberin' yesterday evenin' when I yelled for 'em both to get back into the Saloon. Reckon I might've, entirely unintentionally, interrupted a tender moment between the two of 'em... Which I guess was the reason for the glare of death Stell sent me. Maybe I oughtta apologise... On second thoughts, maybe not - remindin' her of the incident might end in my death.

Nah, she wouldn't kill me; killin' innocent Deputies ain't her style. Might maim me a little though, and that ain't somethin' I want happenin'. Best say nothin'. Guess I won't say anythin' 'bout what I've seen this mornin' neither, 'cept to Miss Jessica of course, but I'm a firm believer in holdin' onto knowledge. 'Cause knowledge is a valuable thing, and of course, entirely different from gossip.

Can't resist takin' another peep at 'em though... and what I see nearly makes me topple backwards off my chair. Breakfast didn't prepare me for _that _sight! Though it sure is a sight to make anyone with a romantic heart in their chest smile in a goofy sorta' fashion!

In the middle of Main Street, of all places, Mac and Stell have got their arms wrapped round each other and nothin' less than a kiss is takin' place between them!

Ain't able to do nothin' but watch, grinnin' from ear to ear, but then it strikes me that I ain't bein' a loyal friend to either of 'em, spyin' on a private moment. Guess I don't want to be like them little old ladies, spyin' through their curtains on folks. So, a little reluctantly, I duck down outta sight and count off a few minutes crouchin' on the floor.

After I estimate enough time's passed for a kiss on a snow-covered street, I put my hands on the window sill and pull myself up to peep through the glass. Seems I under-estimated though, and have to duck back down for another couple minutes. Then when I judge it's gotta be safe enough, 'cause they're gonna need to be breathin' again soon, I take another look and see they've finally loosed hold of each other and are standin' sorta starin' into each other's eyes. They're still holdin' hands, both lookin' a little shy. Stell's the first to move, reachin' up and touchin' Mac's cheek. Makes him look even more shy as she's smilin' at him. She's the only person who can do that to the Sheriff of Hattanville, bring that look to his face. Somethin' about her, somethin' about her presence, means that whenever she's near him, and especially when she smiles at him, he sorta' melts.

Noticed somethin' similar happenin' to myself whenever Miss Jessica's nearby.

Makes me think about the times _we've_ shared a few sweet moments of kissin'. Ain't been enough for my likin', but I know we got plenty more to come...

But bringin' my mind back to the present, I'm seein' Stell's put her arm round Mac and they've started makin' their way slowly up Main Street. Seems Mac's leg's still troublin' him, probably his ribs too, 'cause it's clear he's limpin' and holdin' himself a little stiffly. Should rightly be restin' in bed, but the man seems to have a hatred of restin', even though it was only two days ago he was lyin' unconscious and trapped under a heap of rubble. Guess he ain't ever gonna change though, and there are worse faults a man could have, snorin' for instance.

Reckon they're at a safe enough distance now, so I dust myself off and stand up, givin' my legs a shake. Got real stiff crouchin' all that time. Then as I turn and take a last glance outta the window, expectin' to see them safely headin' towards the Sheriff's Office, I see Stell hurryin' back down Main Street! Heck, I gotta hide, quick! Drop back down fast as I can, and hope to goodness she ain't seen me. Don't want her thinkin' I'd been spyin', could lead to terrible consequences for me...

Few minutes later, I stand up again cautiously, look out, and breathe a sigh of relief. Street's empty, so without further ado, I cram the remains of my breakfast in my mouth, pull my hat on and sally forth.

I was a little too optimistic though, 'cause as I close the front door behind me and step onto the boardwalk, Stell comes back outta the Saloon. She stops and narrows her eyes at me before walkin' purposefully over.

"Mornin' Stell," I raise my hat to her and look as innocent as I can. "You're up and about mighty early. Headed someplace?"

Her eyes kinda bore into me and I try not to blink.

"Mornin' Don. Could say the same to you, 'cause this ain't your usual hour for risin' and shinin'. I'm just headin' to the Sheriff's Office."

"Well ain't that a coincidence!" I exclaim as we fall into step. "That's where I'm headed too, we can accompany each other there."

"Guess we can," her eyebrows draw together. "Gives us chance for conversation."

"You know I always enjoy conversation with you, Stell," I reply, lookin' straight ahead and not stoppin'.

"Sure," she nods keepin' pace with me. "Enjoy it myself. But of course, neither of us are ones for _gossipin'_ sorta conversations, are we?"

Riskin' a glance down at her, I see she's near enough glarin' daggers at me, and suddenly a speck of dust on my sleeve's in need of closer inspection.

"Surely you know I ain't a man for gossipin', Stell," I say in a hurt sorta tone, and she gives a disbelievin' sniff.

"Sure you ain't. Pardon me for even entertainin' the thought..."

I try distractin' her next. "Anyways, maybe you're wonderin' about how Danny is this mornin'?"

She don't fall for it though.

"I'm guessin' he's fine, seein' as you ain't said otherwise. But we ain't talkin' about Mr Messer here, are we?"

"Well, seein' as I know you like to know about folks, figured you'd be interested..." I cast her a sideways look and she snorts.

"I ain't the only one in town who likes to know about folks though am I?"

Curse the woman; she ain't gonna let me get outta this so easy. Gotta try a different tack. "Was there somethin' in particular you wanted to converse about, Stell?" I lengthen my stride a little so she has to quicken her steps.

"Nope, we're just havin' a general conversation. Though maybe I might kinda mention how ill-judged it would be to go havin' conversations with _anyone_ else about things you overhear..." she darts in front of me and stops, meanin' I gotta stop too and face her gaze. "And things you might've seen when nosin' through windows. 'Cause those sorta things can easily be misinterpreted."

She's standin' there with her hands on her hips and a challenge in her eyes, but behind that, there's an implorin' look, and it makes me feel kinda mean about eavesdroppin' and spyin' on her and Mac. 'Cause if I'm honest, and I like to think of myself as such, then that was what I was doin'. As to misinterpreting though, there ain't _no_ way anyone could misinterpret _that_ kiss...

However, heavin' a sigh, I look her in the eyes. "Listen, whatever I overheard yesterday, and whatever I did or did not see this mornin', ain't gonna be told to anyone else. You got my word on that."

Guess me and Miss Jessica will have to find some other topics for conversation... Though I'm still gonna tell her about the kiss.

Stell nods slowly, her eyes never leavin' me. "Good, 'cause passin' on what ain't the whole story to folks ain't right nor fair."

"Couldn't agree more."

We hold each other's gaze for a moment, and then she sighs. "You're a real good friend to Mac and me."

Hearin' that makes me feel a whole lot happier. They're real good friends to me and all, and though teasin' 'em's one of my pleasures, the last thing I want to do is cause 'em distress.

"That's good to hear," I smile, and we resume our walk to the Sheriff's Office in a comfortable silence.

Mac's sittin' at his desk when we push the door open, and after he and Stell exchange a glance that speaks volumes, we greet each other politely, and no more is said on the matter.

But there's a black look on his face as he holds up a letter.

"Reply from the Railroad Company," he says. "Or so it claims."

Stell's frownin. "That ain't right. No way there's been enough time for your letter to reach them and a reply to come back."

"My thoughts exactly," Mac's voice is real grim, "Which leads me to believe that somethin' suspicious is goin' on..."

A cackle of laughter from the cells startles us before Mac can tell us the contents of the letter, and it's followed by the voice of Louie Messer.

"Somethin' suspicious, Sheriff? You don't know the half of it. Ain't gonna be much longer before you'll be wishin' it was only a Railroad Company you had to deal with!"

"And what in hell's that supposed to mean?" Mac's shoved his chair back and is stridin' over fast as he can manage, Stell and me close on his heels. "You got somethin' to tell me, then tell me straight!"

His friend's sleepin' soundly on the bunk, but Louie's sittin' in the corner of the cell with a blanket round him. He gives us a scowl, but then as a series of soft thuds are heard from outside, his face freezes.

"You hear that?" he says hoarsely, huddlin' into the blanket, his eyes dartin' round the room. "That sound..."

"Ain't nothin' but snow fallin' off the roof," I scoff. "Surely you ain't scared of that?"

"Weren't snow," he says shakin' his head and lookin' terrified, which leads to Mac gettin' impatient.

"What's happened to all your tough-talkin' of yesterday huh? What about the threats you were handin' out to us? Gonna say anythin' more on that?"

Louie shakes his head again and scoots back into the corner. "Ain't gonna say nothin' more," he mutters. "Said too much. More than my life's worth. You're gonna have to find out yourselves."

"Find out _what?_" Stell demands, her hands back on her hips.

"You'll know soon enough. Then you're all gonna be sorry, _real_ sorry." Louie pulls the blanket over his head and presses against the wall, his body shakin'.

The three of us look at each other, and I gotta confess, we're all baffled by this turn of events; how in a few minutes a man can go from tauntin' us to terrified. Guess all his toughness was for show. But something's definitely up here, and we're determined to find out what.

Seems Louie's equally determined not to let us. Man's clammed up and much as we hate to do so, after a fruitless half hour or so tryin' to get him to talk, and even makin' a few threats ourselves, we gotta admit defeat.

"What now?" I ask Mac as we're stood around his desk again, the letter laid out in front of us.

He rubs his hand over his face and his exhaustion's plain to see. Reckon the best thing for him to do would be to go and get some rest. Know that ain't gonna happen though.

"Ain't a lot we can do," he says wearily, and Stell squeezes his shoulder. "Other than keep those two outlaws where they are for the present, and try and figure out what to do with this letter..."

At that, Stell picks it up, folds it, and stuffs it into her pocket. "Well gentlemen, I got a suggestion," she announces. "No need for us to be stayin' here in this freezin' cold office of yours when I got a fire blazin' in the Saloon and plenty of food in the larder. We'll take ourselves there and discuss matters over a real decent breakfast," she gives me a wink. "I'm sure _you_ ain't gonna refuse a second one."

I maintain my dignity. "Nothin' wrong with appreciatin' good food."

"There ain't," she smirks. "And I know there's no one more appreciative of food than you."

Even Mac's got the ghost of a grin on his face, and I know there's no one more appreciative of _that_ than Stell. She takes his arm with a smile, and they walk out the door together with eyes only for each other.

I'm right behind 'em, meanin' I almost crash into their backs when they stop dead on the boardwalk.

In front of us is a semi-circle of armed men, and slippin' like shadows from between the houses are more and more of 'em. Somehow I got a feelin' they ain't here to pay us a social visit, and I ain't gonna get my second breakfast. We're surrounded before we know it, all escape routes cut off, and as we're standin' there breathin' hard with a dozen and more pistols lookin' our way, one man swaggers forward.

"Well ain't this a pleasant start to the mornin'," he drawls, his face cruel and his six-shooter pointin' right at us.

"What are you doin' in my town?" Mac growls as his hand hovers above his holster, whilst all around us is the sound of weapons bein' cocked.

The man smiles and takes aim.

"Best say your prayers, Sheriff..." His finger curls round the trigger. "'Cause this ain't your town any longer!"

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you've read, please take a minute to review and let me know what you thought. I hope this doesn't sound ungrateful (or paranoid :P) but I'm a little worried as the last couple of chapters don't seem to have been quite as popular, so if you have any thoughts on this, good or bad, please let me know! Many thanks, Lily x **


	21. The Wild Bunch

**Disclaimer:**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author: **** Lily Moonlight**

**Notes****: Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help and I love knowing what you think. Thanks to **_**Ballettmaus**_** for all her help, and to **_**Blue Shadowdancer**_** and**_** Sarramaks**_** for reading and commenting on early drafts. Thanks also to **_**cmaddict, Brinchen86, iluvCSI4ever **_**and **_**DNAisunique **_**for discussions and to everyone who has been kind enough to encourage me to post this, I really appreciate it. And seeing as it's been ages and ages since this was updated (I'm sorry) I have written a very short extra story set in Hattanville, which I will send to all reviewers in a review reply. Thanks to **_**suallenparker**_** for letting me use her idea for doing this.**

**NB This chapter gets a bit darker than previous ones. There are also probably far too many references to **_**Hamlet**_**...  
**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 21: The Wild Bunch

Sid:

_To die, to sleep, to sleep perchance to dream..._

And from a sleep filled with dreams, that I must own held the shadows of death in them, I wake suddenly, and sit, as the saying goes, bolt upright in bed. Gasping for breath and feeling a cold sheen of perspiration over me, I find myself seized with a sudden horror that I had fallen into the endless sleep of death, and it takes me a moment to compose myself, and convince that I am in fact alive, and not dead. It is unlikely, that, were I dead, I would be still sitting up in my own bed, facing the boot button eyes of my dear Martha's rag doll that sits on the top of the dressing table. A doll that I find has a most disconcerting stare.

Regardless, for some reason I cannot fathom, I tossed and turned restlessly all night. Usually I'm a man who sleeps soundly, untroubled by dreams. So soundly in fact that my dear Martha has remarked upon this on more than one occasion, telling me I sleep more soundly than the dead. This remark is usually made to me when she has been attempting to rouse me of a morning to come downstairs and eat the breakfast that she has prepared for me. A breakfast that, more often than not, has also been prepared for Mr Flack, and so I have learned from experience to be hasty indeed in waking and taking myself downstairs to snatch a few crumbs from the table before Hattanville's Deputy has eaten every last one.

But even as I'm lying here, glad of the warm blankets around me, I'm troubled by a feeling of foreboding. Looking around me, even though without my spectacles my sight is a little blurred, I can see nothing out of place, no sign in the house that anything is amiss, and yet, and yet...

Now, a man in my profession might well be expected to have thoughts of death, and it is certainly a subject that during my life, I have mused upon intently and found fascinating, but this morning, sitting up in bed, feeling my heart gradually return to its regular beat as I watch the pale light of dawn through the window, I am filled with thoughts of wrongful deaths and souls who have departed this life troubled in heart and mind, those who have gone to their eternal sleep not at peace with the world. And I am not a man who believes in ghosts, as I remarked to Mr Flack only two days ago.

Like the sweet prince of Mr Shakespeare's play, a man most sorely troubled by ghosts it must be acknowledged, I hope to have someone to wish me goodnight when my time comes. And should I chance to dream when my great sleep comes, I hope to dream of the happiness in my life, and the woman who has given me my greatest happiness. My dear Martha.

What calms my heart a little more is the knowledge that she is asleep safe and sound next to me now. Lying, as always, curled up on her side; she is turned towards me and in slumber resembles a rather plump dormouse. Mr Flack is not the only one who enjoys her cooking; she is often to be found sampling the items she has made, despite her occasional complaints to me that her clothes seem to have shrunk in her launderings of them.

"Oh, Martha," I sigh and sweep a lock of hair out of her face. She purses her lips and murmurs something incoherent, no doubt dreaming as I believe she often does, of all the chores she occupies herself with. It's true to say that I would not be the man I am today without my dear wife at my side. I would be the first to admit to undertaking some rather wild schemes in the past, but she keeps them from becoming fatal. And though I may be accused of sentimentality, I will attest that the day I met her in that wild and romantic corner of England is a day most dear to my heart, and a day I count myself to have been blessed. We may disagree now and again, but our arguments have never been long-lived.

She is most helpful in the task of comforting the families of the dear departed, and takes care of the stomachs of many folks in town, most importantly, Mr Flack's. And if her concern for others perhaps slips over on occasion into, dare I say it, _interfering_ a little, then it is all done with the best intentions.

Yes indeed, we make quite the partnership and complement each other well. There are not many couples who can truly say that, perhaps the only other couples I know who can are Mr Messer and Miss Monroe, and most especially, Hattanville's Sheriff and his beloved Saloon Owner. Taylor and dear Miss Stella are two halves of one whole it seems, and it would be difficult to imagine one without the other. As I cannot even begin to imagine my life without Martha; for almost thirty years she has shared it, and I hope that we have many more to come before we are called to wherever we are called to at the end of our lives.

Something of a feeling of reassurance settles over me then and the wisps of my nightmares start to fade away. Maybe I should go downstairs to start preparations for breakfast myself? On second thoughts, that might not be quite the thing. Having attempted on one occasion to surprise Martha with breakfast made in my own style, I ended up in a sad situation indeed. It would be the truth to say that we are fortunate to still own a kitchen after I did some experimentation in the poaching of eggs. Seems paraffin is _not_ the thing to use to encourage a fire, at least not in the quantity I used, and not in a small domestic fire. I faced Martha's wrath in a quite terrifying display that day. Even more terrifying than the sight of the conflagration I had caused. Perhaps a certain possessiveness with regard to her kitchen is a tiny fault of hers also...

It is probably best then if I settle back down for another hour's sleep, so I'm fresh and rested to face the day, and whatever it holds for us. At least all the citizens of Hattanville are once again safely accounted for. Maybe Taylor will want me to continue my research, I certainly want to do everything I can to assist the town and prevent its destruction at the hands of this most pernicious Railroad Company. With that thought, and my mind a little more at ease, I lie back against the pillows, close my eyes and prepare to fall back to sleep.

Except the moment I close my eyes, I am jerked awake by a sound that drives fear into my heart and wakes me up faster than anything else.

Gunshots

Three shots in quick succession. And then silence. A terrible silence. It jerks me upright in bed, and suddenly I cannot catch my breath, it's choked in my lungs, and a feeling of dread is clutching at me. That is _not_ a sound that should be heard at this time of day, not unless something is badly wrong!

"Sidney!" Martha, come to life beside me, grasps my arm and her eyes are wide as any remnants of sleep disappear rapidly from her. "Tell me I didn't just hear what I thought I did!"

"Martha, my dear..." I swallow and blink at her, trying to find some words of reassurance. "I'm afraid that what you thought you heard was likely the truth."

She turns pale and her eyes widen. "Shots fired! My love, there shouldn't be shots fired in Hattanville at this time of the morning..."

"Exactly my thoughts, my dear," I tell her as I'm already swinging my legs out of bed and fumbling for my spectacles on the bedside table. Seems to take me an age to find them, but I do, finally and put them on and welcome the room coming into focus.

Martha is also heaving herself out of bed, and stands opposite me in her rather voluminous nightdress, looking at me with an expression of fear.

"What if someone's hurt, Sidney? We must wake Doctor Hawkes, straight away!"

"It's likely he will have heard the shots himself," I tell her as I dress as quickly as I can, not caring about how I look. I don't even stop to remove my nightshirt, instead my shirt and trousers are pulled on over it, knowing that will give me some extra warmth on this cold morning. Martha still looks worried, so I hasten to offer a solution. "I will go and call on him, but I think the sound was loud enough to have woken the whole of Hattanville,"

She nods fearfully and looks about her for her dress.

"Over on the chair my dear," I point it out to her and she grabs it and drags it over her head. Normally a lady who takes much care in her presentation, and in mine, at this moment Martha does not care a jot about what she or I look like.

My jacket is the last garment I put on, with an eye to the bitterly cold weather, and as I button it up, I raise the curtain to cast a glance out into the street.

All along Main Street I can see curtains twitching and windows being opened. Seems as if we were not the only ones to be woken. As yet though, I can see no sign of where the shots may have come from, and no one is visible outdoors.

Upon leaving our bedroom, we run straight into Miss Higgins who has come rushing out of her room, her hair loose round her shoulders and her pistol held out in front of her.

"Y'all all right?" she asks us breathlessly, her cheeks pink and her eyes a little startled. "Heard shots and feared the worst. Y'all gonna go see what's happenin'?"

"That we are," I tell her, and with a decisive nod, she joins us.

"Then I'm comin' with you. Ain't gonna be hearin' gunshots and stayin' cowerin' in my room. If folks are in trouble, then I wanna be offerin' help."

"There speaks a girl after my own heart, my dear," I say as we move quickly to the stairs.

Making sure Martha is behind me, we hurry downstairs and stopping only to throw our coats over our shoulders, we leave the house, Miss Higgins leading the way. It seems indeed, I pause to consider for the merest second, that she is almost recklessly eager to be hunting down the source of trouble. Seems to be something she shares with many of the women of this town.

But this is not the time to be light-hearted, because running through my mind is the dire thought that my dreams of darkness were a foreshadowing of death visiting the town.

The snow has settled overnight and the sky is clear, but it's left an iron hard frost on the town. We hasten onto the street just as more folk emerge from their houses, all of them looking as hastily dressed as Martha and I, and there are some interesting sights to be seen. Mrs Wildman, closely following Doctor Hawkes, seems to have thrown one of the good Doctor's coats over her shawl and nightdress and has neglected to remove the curl papers from her hair, and Daniel Messer appears to have forgotten to put on his boots as he comes hopping out into the snow.

There's no more time though to marvel at such sights as it seems as if the whole of Hattanville has come flooding into Main Street. Miss Higgins runs over to the good Doctor, and Miss Monroe who appears from her doorway with a blanket over her dress catches the arm of her fiancée and lends him some assistance in walking.

Our natural progression is towards the Sheriff's Office at the end of Main Street, always the place to go in times of trouble, closely followed of course by the surgery of Doctor Hawkes, but as we move _en masse_, it becomes strangely apparent that there is no sign of Taylor, Mr Flack or Miss Stella. Which strikes me as most unusual, and most concerning too. Those three are usually the first people at the scene of any trouble, especially trouble involving shots being fired. I see Miss Angell and her family hurrying at the side of us, and the young lady has a most worried look on her face, and from that I draw the conclusion that she is also missing the presence of her young man.

It does not take many minutes for us to reach the Sheriff's Office, where we are met with nothing but a mass of footprints in the snow. Indeed it is considerably churned up, and a feeling of dread begins to creep through me at what that suggests. There is silence too, no sign of anyone and all of us stop and stand there, unsure of suddenly of what to do. All of us know that something is very wrong, and that the silence and the stillness are concealing it from us, for the moment.

That moment, however, does not last as the door to the office creaks open and a figure emerges, flanked by six other men, all armed, all with cruel intentions in their faces, and, I do not think I exaggerate in this, all with a look of death in their eyes. A gasp ripples through the crowd and the dread that has been creeping up on me, now seizes me by the throat. I suddenly and most dreadfully fear the worst for the Sheriff, Miss Stella and Mr Flack; and fear that something rotten indeed has come to the town of Hattanville.

That fear only increases as the first man makes his way down the steps and struts forward to meet us, his thumbs hooked in his pockets and a swagger in his step that disgusts me to see it. Tall and skinny, with greasy dirt-brown hair that hangs below his hat brim, he wears even blacker clothing than Taylor does, including a leather coat that swirls and flaps around him like Death's dark garb. His companions fan out behind him and pistols are pulled and aimed at the crowd. Then, stepping forward, he spits out a stream of tobacco juice that stains the snow and turns to us, grinning cadaverously.

"Well now, looks like we got the drop on all of you, don't it? So now we got a whole bunch of people joinin' the party. Ain't that sweet, men?" He turns to the bunch of outlaws surrounding him and is answered with a disharmonious chorus of jeers and laughter. Turning back to us, his grin now ruthless and cold, he unhooks his thumbs from his pockets, showing us clearly the pistols and bullets in his belt.

"Gunshots wake you all up, did they?" he asks and stares round at us all with a sneer. "Guess you're all mebbe wonderin' where your Sheriff and Deputy and the pretty lady who was accompanyin' them are, hey?" His grin widens as he beckons to one of the men.

"We're gonna show these good people what happens to folk when they go disagreein' with what I gotta say to 'em. Bring 'em out here and show these people we mean business,"

The man nods and makes his way back into the Sheriff's Office.

No one amongst us has dared to speak yet, but our silence is eloquent indeed. Though it pains me to say it, the sight of those pistols has put fear into all of us, and if the fate of Taylor, Miss Stella and Mr Flack is still uncertain, then none of us wish to do anything to antagonise these people. Somehow, it seems they have been overpowered by the gang of outlaws in front of us. All we can hope and pray for is that they have not met their deaths at their hand. The sound of those shots is ringing round and round in my head. Three people, three gunshots. Oh no, _no_...

And then the door creaks again and a sight most disturbing is revealed. Taylor emerges over the threshold, fury in his face, no doubt due to the fact that his hands are bound behind him and a pistol is held to the back of his head, but at least he is alive and my heart calms a little. He's shoved roughly down the steps and barely manages to keep his balance, before he is seized again by the man marking him and pushed to stand in front of us all. Martha clutches my arm, her nails digging into me, and I hold my hand over hers, knowing that she is desperate to protest at this treatment of Hattanville's Sheriff, but as we are both aware, any protests may do much more harm than good. Miss Stella, also with her hands tied behind her back and a pistol to her head, closely follows Taylor. She at least is treated a little more gently and is allowed to make her own way down the steps before being brought to stand a few feet away from the Sheriff. Her head is held high with defiance, but there is also a glimpse of fear in her eyes as I study her face. She, however, has eyes only for Taylor and I see the look that passes silently between them both and hope that they can gain strength from each other.

My last fears of death are finally laid to rest when Mr Flack is pushed forward out of the Office in the same position as his friends a moment later. But this is a most cruel and humiliating displaying of three of the most esteemed citizens in town! As he is moved forward in no gentle fashion, the barrel of the pistol being pressed cruelly into his skull, there is finally a shout from the crowd.

"Don! _Don_..." the cry of Miss Jessica Angell though is smothered and I turn to see her mother gripping tight hold of her with her hand firmly over her mouth. I hold my breath and hope desperately that she has not drawn any untoward attention to herself as the leader of the outlaws turns slowly and his gaze flicks over everyone.

"Sure hope that weren't someone about to disagree with us," he drawls and fingers the butt of his pistol. "We ain't men who like bein' disagreed with, as your Sheriff and his pals will confirm."

He sends a mocking grin in the direction of Taylor who meets it with an icy stare, his face immobile, but fury radiating from him. Miss Stella sends him a glare although she says nothing, and Mr Flack's face is grim indeed.

"Bring out our other two friends," the leader calls out and I exchange a puzzled look with Martha as all around us, people do the same. As far as I can tell, from my assessment of who is standing in the crowd, I had noticed no one else missing. Who else could have been taken hostage?

We soon find out as two more figures are manhandled out of the Sheriff's Office, similarly held with hands tied behind their backs and pistols to their heads, and I recognise them as the two men who were responsible for the kidnapping of Miss Monroe and Mr Messer. Both look subdued and frightened with their heads bowed. Mr Messer, of course, immediately recognises his brother and a yell in his distinct voice rises from the crowd.

"Hey! What the hell do you..."

Like Miss Jessica though, he is suppressed, this time by his fiancée as I see Miss Monroe, with a look of terror on her face, dragging him back to her side by his arm.

"Danny, _please_..." I hear her hiss frantically. She succeeds in silencing him, though his clenched fist remains raised and his face is tightened in anger. It seems fraternal loyalty is deep indeed, considering that only a day ago, he was being held hostage himself, by the brother who has befallen that same fate. I feel a certain, perhaps inappropriate, feeling of irony here.

But I, along with the rest of the crowd, have my attention turned back most hastily to the gang of outlaws and their leader as another shot is fired. My heart pounds and more exclamations arise from my fellow citizens as he lowers his arm and a still-smoking six-shooter, after having sent a bullet up into the atmosphere.

"Guess that got your notice real fast," he sneers. "Maybe that's the only kinda' thing you people are gonna listen to, 'cause your Sheriff here ain't been listenin' so far when I tell him this ain't his town anymore..."

"That's 'cause it ain't and it ain't never gonna be neither!" Taylor retorts and the man holding him shoves the pistol hard into his head, provokin' a hiss of pain from the Sheriff, and an angry exclamation from Miss Stella. The gang leader laughs at both of them and my blood begins to boil.

"See, that's where you got it wrong, Sheriff," he says as he polishes his weapon with his sleeve. "But maybe I oughtta do a bit of explainin' to all you folks so there ain't no misunderstandings between us all. Lou, go fetch the letter."

One of the men hurries back up the steps and into the Sheriff's Office, then re-emerges carrying a piece of paper which he hands to the leader. Silence has fallen again as the man makes a great show of holding the letter up and scanning it with narrowed eyes before he turns to us with his face split into a twisted smile.

"Seems you got an unexpected reply from this Railroad Company that's been threatenin' you. Now that's a real interestin' thing. Bet you weren't thinkin' they'd be replyin' so soon did you, what with all this bad weather we've been havin'? Guess _you_ were suspicious 'bout that too, weren't you, Sheriff?"

Taylor does not deign to reply, merely shooting a glare at him, which leaves no impression on the man in black who gives another laugh and holds the piece of paper up to the crowd.

"Take a look at this, all of you!" he raises his voice. "And listen up good to what I gotta say 'cause this is real important, if you all want to survive till sunset that is."

He pauses to look round at all of us. It seems no one is even moving a muscle and I can hear the blood rushing in my ears as we wait. The pressure of Martha's hand on my arm increases and I am most grateful for it, particularly as I see Mr Sinclair, one of the town's confirmed bachelors, standing by himself. I note that he seems almost frozen in place, and there is what I can only describe as horror in his eyes. A wave of pity washes over for the poor man then, that he has no one to comfort him at this time.

All around us, our fellow citizens are wide-eyed and fearful, their eyes darting between those held hostage and the man standing in front of us; a man who seems to have a liking for the sound of his own voice and a flair for the dramatic.

Having decided he has waited long enough for his words to sink in, he continues. "It may surprise most of you to hear this, but I got some real interestin' information about this supposed Railroad Company..." Again he pauses, and his eyes, I note with some interest, fall on the very man I was considering a few moments before; Mr Brigham Sinclair. A man who seems to be in a state of some distress; his eyes are locked on the man in front of us and his hands are clenched at his side. Even at the distance I am from him, it is clear from his flared nostrils and parted lips that his breathing is rapid and shallow. The poor man seems gripped by terror...

"Real interestin' indeed," the man speaks on and a smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. "I also know a whole lot of information about this here letter. You see, I know who wrote it, and I know who wrote the first letter your Sheriff got and all. What do you say to that, hey? Anyone wanna make any remarks yet?"

The breathless silence holds sway over all of us, and as Martha and I look at each other, we are both baffled. How could this brute of a man possibly know anything about the letters Taylor received from the Railroad Company? _How?_

Unless...

"Glad to hear that none of you do," he sneers. "'Cause I don't like bein' interrupted when I'm addressin' a crowd and revealin' secrets. 'Cause you know, there's someone amongst you all that's holdin' back one hell of a secret. Kinda' secret that makes a man do real rash things. Kinda' secret that gets a man into a whole lotta trouble and debt. Guess you could even say you got a _traitor_ in town."

And with that word, the possible I had been afraid of becomes probable.

Still no one says anything, and now my eyes are drawn once again towards Brigham Sinclair as the man in black seems to have hooked him like a fish on a line, drawing him towards him helplessly as his eyes bulge and his mouth gapes open, gasping for breath.

Oh surely not? No, he would not...

"_You_ know what I'm talkin' about, don't you?" the man says, stopping a few feet in front of Sinclair and regarding his victim with his head on one side. "In fact, mebbe you oughtta be the one tellin' your fellow citizens all about what you've been up to. Or ain't you able to do that? Seems like someone's gotten hold of your tongue, hey? Course, I got ways of loosenin' it for you..."

Taking his six-shooter, he places it against Sinclair's forehead and the poor man almost collapses. His eyes are closed and his breathing is ragged; at his side his hands are clenching and unclenching and his whole body is trembling. The man holding the pistol regards him with a smile on his face and spits out another stream of tobacco. It lands on Sinclair's shoe, but he does not move.

After a minute in which I do not believe anyone has taken a breath and the waiting tension has become almost unbearable, the man in black slowly pulls back the catch on his pistol and his voice, when he speaks, has lowered in pitch to a brutal whisper.

"You'd better start talkin', _Brigham_, otherwise your brains are gonna be spread all over the snow, and guess you ain't gonna want that to happen, are you?"

Three seconds fall with the weight of tombstones and a whimper escapes Sinclair's mouth before the pistol is pressed harder into his head.

"Start talkin', _now!_" the man hisses and Sinclair jerks in fear before his mouth opens and words stutter out of him.

"All... all right... please... please, just don't... don't kill me..."

"Better keep talkin' then, so I don't have to. Though I'm warnin' you, I got a real itchy trigger finger on freezin' cold mornings like this."

A faint, icy breath of wind lifts his coat and a sob comes from Sinclair. Martha's face has tears spilling down it as I turn to her.

"The poor man," she whispers. "The poor, foolish man..."

"_Talk!_" the man shouts and a shudder runs through the hardware store owner as he continues in halting sentences, punctuated by gasps.

"I'm sorry... I'm real sorry... didn't... didn't mean for any of this to happen, Sheriff, please, you gotta believe me...."

"The good Sheriff don't know what happened yet, does he, so you best tell him, fast!" the man snarls.

"Gambling!" Sinclair blurts out and a sigh escapes from the crowd, and in my mind, things begin to fall into place. "It was gambling... got myself into debt, couldn't.... couldn't pay them, even with the store doing well. Had to get money to pay them somehow, had to, else they... they would've killed me... I'm sorry Sheriff!"

"Tell him what you're sorry for! Tell him what you did!" the man barks and his pistol rams into Sinclair's forehead, provoking a gasp of pain.

"I sent the letters!" he cries. "Me, I did it! I needed the money, fast, these... these people were gonna kill me if I didn't pay them, so... so I sent the first letter, setting things up, and then I sent... sent the other one, knowing you'd rather pay whatever was asked for than let the town be destroyed. I'm sorry!"

A deathly hush falls amongst us all as we take in what has just been revealed to us in the most shocking way: there was no Railroad Company wanting to demolish the town; Taylor and Miss Stella almost got themselves killed in the gunpowder works for nothing; the deeds were never needed...

Oh Mr Sinclair, what have you brought upon us?

He has fallen to his knees now, his hands over his face, sobbing and shuddering in the snow as the man holds his pistol over him.

"You're _pathetic!_" he sneers. "But I ain't gonna kill you, you ain't worth killin' like this."

Then spinning in a slow circle he looks at all of us. "Guess I'd better finish this tale off then, seein' as your Mr Sinclair don't seem able to do so. Yeah, he had a plan, that he was gonna get the money he owed us from trickin' you folks into payin' money to a non-existent Railroad Company to spare the town. Then he was gonna pay us. Trouble is, we ain't patient people, but we're smart people. Way we see it, we can get a whole lot more money from this town by comin' direct to it. Your hardware store owner's very kindly been keepin' us informed about events in town whilst we been hidin' out round by the gunpowder works. Your Sheriff and his lady friend almost disturbed us there, guess they were both real lucky their little _accident_ with the roof fallin' in didn't kill 'em," he laughs at that long and hard and angry rumblings run through the crowd at the thought the accident Taylor and Miss Stella suffered was no accident at all, but I am almost dazed with shock at what has been revealed to all of us - that one of our own has betrayed Hattanville! I'm looking now at the two of them and Mr Flack, and were it not for the pistols held to their heads by the men behind them, I can tell by the fury on their faces that they would not be standing for this disgraceful display.

The man has not finished though. "And if you're wonderin' about the fellow who came runnin' back to town with a bullet in his chest, then I ain't ashamed to admit responsibility for that and all. Got too close to us, so we sent him away with somethin' of a warnin'..."

"You killed an innocent man!" the Sheriff, able to be silent no longer, shouts out, and the crowd is silent again as the man turns on his heel and strides over to him with his gun out in front of him.

"You sayin' somethin' to me, Sheriff?" he snarls.

"Yeah I'm sayin' somethin'," Taylor spits, his face contorted with disgust and anger. "I'm sayin' you ain't nothin' but a low-life murderin' coward and you ain't gonna get a penny from this town!"

There's a pause as the man looks the captive Sheriff up and down. "Is that right?" he says softly. "'Cause I'm afraid I'm gonna disagree with you there."

And without warning, he seizes him by the throat, dragging him away from the man marking him. "Got anythin' to say to me now, hey? Can't hear you talkin', but maybe I oughtta put a bullet in your chest and all, stop _you_ talkin' for good," his hand tightens and the Sheriff starts to gasp and choke in his grasp.

"Get your hands _off him!_" Miss Stella screams. "_Leave him alone!"_

She twists about in the hands of her captor, who seems to be struggling to hold her. After swinging a vicious punch to his ribs and face, the man lets go of Taylor who drops to his knees doubled up and struggling to heave air back into his lungs, and then he walks over to face the Saloon owner.

"You _coward!_" she shouts, her voice shaking with fury. "Why, you're nothin' but..."

His hand cracks across her face, and she cries out as the force of the blow almost knocks her over.

"_You_ have entirely too much to say for a woman!" the man breathes hard as he aims his gun at her. "Keep your mouth shut and know your place or it'll be the worst for you!"

It is only Martha's hand on my arm that prevents me from running over and striking the man himself. How dare he? How _dare_ he hit her? Mr Flack is struggling now against his captor, wrath in his face and rage now begins to buzz amongst the crowd; the rumblings are getting louder following the despicable treatment of the Sheriff and Saloon Owner.

Miss Stella is hauled upright by her captor, but she still hasn't lost the defiance from her face.

Frailty, thy name is _not_ woman.

There is blood on her bottom lip and she runs her tongue over it before she gives a hollow laugh. "Guess we can all see what kinda' man _you_ are!" she spits at him. "You don't scare me. You ain't the first man who's laid a violent hand on me..."

"But he'll sure as _hell_ be the last!" Taylor's managed to pull himself to his feet, his breath wheezing in his chest, but with a cold, a deadly cold rage in his eyes even as he's seized again and the gun pushed into the back of his head. "And if you lay so much as a finger on her again, it'll be the last thing you _ever_ do, you piece of dirt!"

The moment hangs by a thread of ice as the man with the six-shooter and the black coat turns a slow stare on Taylor.

"Wanna say that again?" he drawls and flexes his trigger finger.

"He ain't gonna say it again, 'cause _I'm_ sayin' it!" a voice yells from the crowd, and I see Daniel Messer broken free from his fiancée and standing in the middle of the parted crowd, fists raised; even in his stocking feet he is nevertheless a figure who means what he says. "You ain't gonna get away with that sorta' thing against Mr Taylor and Miss Stella. You're a real yellow-bellied coward, strikin' a woman and threatenin' folks who ain't even got their hands free. Make you feel real brave does it? _Does it?_" his voice rises and there is fury flushing his face.

The six-shooter turns away from Taylor and towards his new opponent.

"You folks don't seem to understand do you?" the man says in a voice which carries to all of us on the still air. "I don't like bein' interrupted and I don't like insults!"

His arm raises and Mr Messer closes his eyes, a scream comes from Miss Monroe and then everything happens in a blur. The man squeezes the trigger, a shriek of denial rips through the air, and then before we can fully take in what is happening, a bullet has fired, someone has leaped, and someone has fallen.

"No! _Oh no!_"

A cry breaks from Martha and is echoed all around us as we see Mr Messer standing as still as death over the unmoving form of Brigham Sinclair.

"He jumped in front of me," he whispers and staggers backwards, caught by his sobbing fiancée. "He... he took the bullet..."

Doctor Hawkes comes pushing through the crowd and drops down beside Sinclair. He presses a hand to his neck and it only takes a moment before he looks around at all of us and makes his pronouncement in a horrified voice.

"He's dead..."

**I've had this written for a while, but I wanted to get a few chapters finished so I can post more regularly. I'd really love to know what you thought of this chapter if you can spare a moment to review, and I'll send the short story. I'll update again on Friday, and in the meantime, I have a new four part story which I'll post the first chapter of either tomorrow or Tuesday. Thanks, Lily x**


	22. Defiance

**Disclaimer:**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author: **** Lily Moonlight**

**Notes****: Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help and I love knowing what you think. Thanks to **_**Ballettmaus**_** for her help. Thanks also to **_**cmaddict **_**and**_** Brinchen86**_** for discussions, and special thanks to everyone who sent me a comment back about the extra scene :) **

**Seeing as the extra scene seemed popular last chapter, there's also one for this chapter's reviewers! It's inspired by a suggestion from _DNAisunique_ :D  
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Chapter 22: Defiance 

Hawkes:

Time seems to freeze after I have spoken and those two words hang in their starkness above us all. There is no question about it; Brigham Sinclair, owner of Hattanville's Hardware Store is lying dead in front of us, his life taken by the bullet that has penetrated his skull. The man stood no chance and there is nothing more I can do for him except close his eyelids and remain kneeling beside him, my head bowed, whilst all around me the silence echoes on and on. Daniel Messer, I am aware out of the corner of my eye, is half-collapsed in the arms of his fiancée and the sound of her soft sobs is all I can hear.

I am unable to think of a word more to say myself. How did this happen? How? We have lost a man in the most dreadful circumstances, and I could not help him. But there was nothing I could have done, taking on guilt will do no good, the last spark of life was gone from him before I even reached him. And now his blood is seeping into the snow, turning it pink and red around his cooling body, and I have the most sickening premonition that this will not be the last blood that is spilled today in town.

How wrong that is though; this is a peaceful town, and that we have been threatened and overtaken in this way... I can hardly begin to comprehend it. As I'm still on my knees, unable to do any more for the moment than look at this most brave and foolish of men, I feel a hand on my shoulder and realise Hammerback has moved over to me.

"Sheldon," he says. "Is... is there no possibility?"

I can only shake my head once more and he nods sadly in understanding, and then I am confronted by the sight of Sinclair's murderer, for it was nothing less than a cold-blooded murder that has taken place, looming over me, his weapon in hand as I look up at him.

"So you're the town Doctor, hey?" he says with a sneer twisting his face. As much as I want to leap up and give this man my fist in his face, to give him just an idea of the pain and misery he has inflicted, I know I cannot, that it would do more harm than good, and above all, I must live by my oath; I must do no harm. Enough harm has been done today. The death of a fellow man, even though he was a man, it now seems, who had betrayed us all, is one death too many. But I don't think Sinclair fully realised the consequences of his actions, and he did not deserve death, not in this way.

I give the man who brought that death upon him a curt nod and get to my feet, after I begin to feel the cold of the snow soaking through my breeches. I stand and face the twisted smile he's giving me, whilst his gaze swivels round like a snake's and his pistol twitches in his hand. I have a more than strong suspicion that were there to be the slightest possibly threatening movement from anyone around, his pistol would be discharged and another fatal shot delivered. Even if one of us were to succeed in taking him down, he has his unholy host of acolytes behind him who would exact their own vengeance. No, as much as it may pain us, for all our sakes, we are going to have to bide our time.

He's giving me a considering look now, almost as if he is weighing me in his judgment and it is a look that makes me deeply uncomfortable. But I know that I am more than able to stand up to any judgment this man can make; a man whose conscience must be filled with deeds I cannot bring myself to imagine.

Then he speaks to me again through the silence that still grips everyone.

"Guess that means you're pretty important to folks here, don't it? Bein' a Doctor and all. Guess your skills are likely useful to the good Sheriff, so he'd be pleased to keep you alive and safe, wouldn't he?" he asks, tipping his head to one side as his eyes slide down me. A grim feeling of what his words imply sinks through me and I wait silently to hear what he has to say.

"Kinda' quiet, ain't you?" he says with a twirl of his gun. "Still, that ain't a problem. Don't like it when folks get to chattin' too much or answerin' back..." he breaks off to laugh shortly, and send a mocking glance over to Stella whose face is already reddening where the brute struck her. But she is refusing to give in to any intimidation and though she don't say anything, her look is eloquent enough and I know that if she gets even the slightest chance to break loose she will not hold back to let this man know with as much force as she can what she thinks of him. I take a quick look at Taylor also and the look of hatred, sheer hatred on his face is terrible to see. He's a man who remains calm and steady even in the most unnerving of situations, but the hand this man laid on the woman he adores and strives above all else to protect has brought to the surface some of his darkest and deepest-hidden emotions. I am afraid that he will be seeking his own vengeance for what happened to Stella, now and in the gunpowder works, and justice for what has happened to the other citizens that he, as Sheriff, vows to protect...

"But you're gonna be important to me, so stay right where you are, _Doctor."_

The barrel of the man's gun jabbed into my chest as he sneers his words out knocks me out of my moment of thought and makes me take a step backward. But I refuse to be intimidated by him. I _refuse_. I have faced bullies and cowards before in my life, and I will not allow this one to beat me down either, as I know all the folks in Hattanville will not. We are strong together, and we stand or fall together; even if one of us betrayed us.

The man is talking again though, doesn't seem able to stop, seems he is arrogant as well as brutal, forcing us to endure his taunts. But then those who speak most, give most away about themselves, and it may well be that the Sheriff is able to hear some useful clues in what he tells us.

He turns to Danny next who is being helped to the ground by Miss Monroe. "You were lucky, boy," he cackles. "Better thank your lucky stars someone was foolish enough to jump in front of one of my bullets." Neither of them reply, I do not think they are able to; Miss Monroe simply stares at him for a moment and then turns her attention back to Danny.

Then he raises his voice and scans the crowd, turning in a slow circle with his pistol held in the air. "So you've all seen what happens when someone tries arguin' with me. Let what just happened here be a lesson to all of you. No one messes with Billy Baines and gets away with it!"

So now we have a name for this murderer, not that it will do us much good...

"Guess I'll be tellin' you shortly what I'm plannin' on doin, seein' as it concerns all you folks," he smiles cruelly, and a chill seizes hold of me again to think just what those plans might be, bearing in mind what he has already inflicted upon us.

His smile twists across his face and shows a mouthful of yellowed and broken teeth. He pauses again, letting us hang in a grotesque parody of showmanship that turns my stomach, and I catch the eye of Kelly, to see her expression is similar to mine. But at least the glance we share and the almost imperceptible smile she gives me is something I can gain solace from.

"Hope _you're_ listenin' and all, Doctor!"

I'm jolted to attention by the barrel of Baines's gun poked in my ribs again.

"How could I fail to hear your voice, seeing as you're so fond of using it!" I snap before I've even realised the words are out of my mouth. A horrified silence drops and I can hear the flap of Baines's coat in the breeze as he stares at me.

The gun jabs further into my ribs, making me take another involuntary step backwards. I hold my breath waiting for at the very least a blow from his hand or his pistol.

It doesn't come though.

Instead, he regards me with a baleful eye, scrutinising me with his head slightly to the side and one eye at a squint. "Better be watchin' your tongue, Doctor. Be a shame I reckon for anythin' to happen to you sooner than intended," he says, letting the words drip out of his mouth, poison in every one of them. "I ain't averse to usin' up a few more bullets, got plenty more where the last one came from, in fact..." he raises his voice and looks around again, "I got more than enough for each and every last one of you folks, if needs be!"

Frightened and angry murmurings arise, but no one speaks, and Baines smiles again. I hold my tongue, not wanting to encourage him, but I hold his gaze steadfastly as it returns to me. I will not let this man intimidate me. As anxious as I am, and, I confess, afraid as I am of what our fate will be, I am certain that if he sees our fear then his victory is halfway gained.

He seems satisfied for the moment though and decides he has had enough of my company as he turns away, allowing me to release the breath I have been holding.

Stepping callously over the body of Sinclair, his foot kicking back against him as he does so, Baines strides back to the front of the crowd, towards Taylor, Stella, Flack and the two other captives. A few yards from them though he stops, swings round to face us and a monstrous smile is bestowed on us all.

"So, you all wantin' to hear what's planned then?" he shouts and a sullen muttering greets his words. The arrogance of the man is repulsive; why he does not go right ahead and tell us I do not know. Then his smile fades, and he fires up into the air. "Well wantin' to or not, you're _gonna_ hear me!" he yells and I begin to fear his erratic nature as his arm lowers slowly and the pistol is held out in front of him, moving and pointing at first one person then the next, unpredictable and as fast as a viper's tongue. "As you can see, we got ourselves a real nice bunch of hostages here, includin' your precious Sheriff and his lady friend..." he sends a leering smile towards Stella, who, despite the red mark now smarting on her cheek, returns him a glare that would freeze the hearts of most men in fear.

Baines is unmoved. He is no man though; he is a coward of the lowest order, and as he gestures for the two men holding Taylor and Stella to bring them forward, my hatred for him only increases.

The crowd shuffles back, moved by the sight of pistols bristling in the hands of our enemies as Taylor and Stella are pushed forward into the cleared space. Flack is left standing where he is, struggling against the bonds he's tied with and his face is a study in impotent rage at being unable to defend his friends. I can't see Miss Jessica from where I'm standing, but the shout from her earlier told me clearly that she will be furious at the treatment of her beau.

Taylor stumbles as he's given a rough shove forwards and I catch the desperate glance Stella gives him as she's straining once again to free herself. Uselessly though as Baines looks them both up and down before turning to the rest of us.

"So, two more people, just like your Doctor, I expect all you folks'd be real sorry to see dead, hey?" he asks rhetorically with a grin on his face casting a quick glance at me which I ignore, and as anger rises again from the crowd in the form of mutterings and shifting about, he fires another round into the sky. "Shut your faces!" he roars through the echoes of the discharge ringing round and round in the still, cold air and everyone falls silent. I can feel now the snow starting to numb my feet, even in my boots, and taking a quick glance to the side, I can see Messer looking in real distress. The man's only got a pair of socks on as far as I can see, and frostbite's going to be taking its toll on him. He's sitting in the snow now with his knees drawn up to his chest, his head hanging down, and with Miss Monroe crouched over him, her hands wrapped round his neck, and her face pressed against his. Standing near me, I hear one of our very young folk speaking to her Mama, asking why Mr Sinclair's sleeping in the snow and not getting up. It near enough breaks my heart, but it only angers Baines.

"Best quit all that noise over there, otherwise if any of you ain't gonna be listenin' or cooperatin', then your precious Doctor," he gestures towards me again, "is gonna be gettin' a bullet right between the eyes, then I'll be firin' a few bullets towards all of you!"

Silence prevails. As it does, Baines smiles and nods slowly, wiping his mouth as he stares at me. I do not react though; despite his threats, he is an empty vessel of a man. I will not give in to fear. The deathly hush is only broken by a muffled sob from Martha Hammerback who is clasped to her husband's chest.

"Yeah, you heard right," Baines grins. "Don't put much value on lives, unless they're useful to me. Right now, your Sheriff and his lady are more use to me alive than dead, but soon as that changes, I ain't gonna be averse to finishin' them off and all. Or finishin' _any_ of you off, you hear me?" his voice rises and frightened glances are exchanged amongst the crowd, but I stand firm. As long as we're still alive, we have a chance to defeat this brute. Taylor and Stella are standing erect, but I can see that the situation has also affected them both; both have fear in their eyes, even if it is masked partially by defiance, and the trials they have been through in the last few days is shown clearly by the exhaustion they cannot conceal, not from me anyhow.

"None of you folks are important to me," Baines continues. "It's this here town that's important, and the only reason you and these folks I got captive are still alive is 'cause you're gonna help me get it. See, I can get money for this town, and money's _real_ important to me. Done my thinkin' about this and maybe what you don't realise is that it's in a real prime position, kinda' place that railroad companies and other companies are gonna be real interested in. So if I'm owner of this here place, which is what I intend to be, then I can be sellin' it and makin' a princely sum..."

"Like hell..."

He stops suddenly, his gaze falling back on Taylor who's standing with an increasing look of disgust in his face. "Got somethin' else you wanna say, Sheriff? Ain't learned your lesson yet about keepin' quiet?" he hisses.

I'm worried now that Taylor's going to let his emotions get the better of him and do or say something rash. But all I can do is hope he can keep a hold of himself...

He gives a quick glance to Stella before he continues. "Yeah," he spits, his face all crushed up with scorn and looking at Baines as if he's just crawled out of a pit. "I got somethin' I wanna say, somethin' you might be interested to hear. This town ain't the kinda' place any railroad company's gonna be interested in, they ain't gonna want a small town way out in the middle of nowhere. Took 'em long enough to build a station outside..."

Baines interrupts him with a laugh, a real brittle laugh that breaks over us all. "Ha! Reckon you got your thinkin' wrong there, Sheriff, reckon you've misjudged me in fact. 'Cause I'm pretty smart, see, and I know you're tryin' to bluff me with all that, tellin' me no one's gonna be interested in your little town. Well, I ain't buyin' that, 'cause accordin' to our dead friend, Brigham, you know the value of this place. Why else would you go sendin' that letter off to the non existin' railroad company in such a hurry, hey?" he studies Taylor, and another smile creeps over his face as the Sheriff stays silent, breathing hard. My heart's sinking fast, seeing this play out, realising that we're fast running out of options. "Anyhow, even if a railroad company ain't interested in purchasin' this here town, there's gonna be plenty of other companies, development sorta' companies who'd be happy to have this piece of land for their own purposes, land without no people livin' on it neither!" Baines laughs as Taylor presses his lips together after receiving another look from Stella. I can see the anger in his eyes though, knowing he's failed in his attempt. Then the look on Baines's face becomes sly as he hefts his pistol in his hand and adds. "Yeah, and just between you and me, Sheriff, maybe I've heard rumours of somethin' else in this town, somethin' even _you_ ain't aware of, somethin' of value."

That makes my eyes widen in surprise. Something of value? But what does a man like him mean by value? Everyone pricks up their ears at that and glances are being exchanged around the crowd, however, there's no time to even begin to think about what he means and no more explanation before he swings his pistol round again and faces the crowd, his black coat flapping in the breeze and the leather creaking with every moment he makes.

"So no more debatin'! Small or not, this town's gonna be mine and the sooner that happens the better. Now I see that you got a real nice big Saloon here..." he grins again, the skin on his face stretching over his cheekbones. "Reckon it's even big enough to fit every last one of you in there." The grin widens and I can see Stella now almost choking with fury, and this time it's Taylor sending her a look. Baines don't seem to see this though as he gestures toward the other captives. "Bring over the rest of our friends," he yells and his men don't hesitate for a second to obey him. Seems he holds sway over them with fear too.

"Don't be worryin'," he smirks as Flack and the two other men are brought over. "We ain't forgotten about you."

If I've ever seen rage on the face of Hattanville's Deputy, it's now. He's livid, a bright spot of colour burning in each cheek and his eyes sparking blue fire.

The other two men though, the two responsible for the kidnapping of Danny and Miss Monroe, now them, I'm not able to read them so easily. Only know that the smaller of them's Danny's brother, other than that, I'm not sure where they fit into all this.

Baines is regarding them with a nasty sort of interest, much as a predator studies its helpless prey. Whatever sins they might have committed, I'm feeling real sorry for them. Louie Messer is looking down at his feet trembling all over worse than an aspen leaf: man looks frightened to death, but his companion's looking round at the crowd and there don't seem to be the same level of fear in his face, just a kind of curiosity. I'm curious myself...

"Well, well, well," Baines drawls as he strolls around the pair of them, ignoring Flack for the moment. A smile curls his lips as he tilts his head on one side and looks over the two men. "We meet again, hey? Ain't reunions sweet, men?" he shoots a look at his cohorts and they all laugh on cue. He flicks his pistol towards Louie Messer and continues, ignoring the laughter which dies away as soon as his men realise it is no longer required. "Bet you didn't expect to see me again, did you? Likely you thought you'd gotten away from us. Trouble is though, I'm real unwillin' to let _friends_ go, and now you're back with us, guess I'm gonna be keepin' hold of you..." the smile widens and shows his yellowed teeth, and the look in his eyes is nothing but death. "Till I'm done with you anyhow."

Louie gives a sort of whimper and trembles even more in the grasp of his captor, but his companion don't show any change in expression, instead he seems to take more interest in the crowd. Intriguingly, Baines don't take any notice of him.

As he continues his taunting of Louie, I glance behind me at Danny, who's staring now at his brother with dead eyes, seemingly unable to take anything in. Miss Monroe's hovering over him, tears in her eyes, but failing to get any kind of response from him. Seems shock's taken over, and I vow that as soon as I can, I'm going to take a look at him. At the very least, he's going to need his feet treated for frostbite.

Finally, Baines appears to tire of baiting Louie, who's now looking a broken man, and turns to speak to us again. I can see more than one person shivering now and many of the faces around me are blue and pinched with cold. We've been out here a long time, kept hanging on strings like a host of puppets by this most diabolical of puppet masters.

"Listen up!" he shouts. "Get yourselves lookin' lively, 'cause I ain't gonna have no messin' about with this. You're all gonna get yourselves into the Saloon, and there you're all gonna stay till I tell you otherwise. Your captive friends here are gonna be accompanyin' you, and whether they survive or not's down to you and them..."

His men, I now see, have been gradually moving round, unseen as we've been listening, and they have with dreadful skill surrounded us, meaning there is no escape. At strategic points, they are there waiting, pistols aimed and I realise that we have no choice but to comply. My only comfort is that at least inside the Saloon, we will have warmth and a chance for our most vulnerable citizens to recover from this prolonged exposure to the cold. As I look round I'm deeply concerned about the older folks of the town, many of whom are clinging to husbands and wives and shivering fearfully. Children too, there are the few babes in arms and the little ones hiding behind their Mamas' skirts or their Papas' sturdy frames. If we can get them inside, I will be much relieved. Once inside of course, it is up to those of us who can to devise some kind of plan for escape from this mess...

Baines continues though. "But I got a few last things to say before we head indoors," he smirks and my loathing increases at the cruelty of the man, keeping us out here to listen to him draw out his demands. "Seein' as I want the town, you're gonna have to give me somethin' I need..." my eyebrows raise at this as he continues with a gesture at his captives. "But don't go thinkin' that gives you any kinda' power over me, 'cause I still got your friends captive. Somewhere in this town are the deeds to it. Yeah," he nods with that smirk still on his lips. "Know all about them deeds, thanks to your store owner..." He throws a careless glance towards the body of Sinclair, still lying where he fell in the snow.

"Shame you ain't gonna get them," Taylor snarls, and I wince, wishing to myself that he would stay silent for his sake and Stella's sake. But then I get to thinking what I'd do in his situation, and I know I can't judge him for speaking out. However, even though my heart's started hammering and the crowd are holding their breath, Baines ignores him and continues. "And 'cause I'm needin' them, you're gonna give me them. Reckon you know where they are, you just ain't sayin'..."

"We ain't got no idea where they are!" Stella says furiously. "So you're askin' the impossible!"

Once again, I'm holding my breath. Fear flares up in Taylor's face as Baines takes a step towards her, but this time, he simply laughs at her. "You know, you're startin' to amuse me, all that fire you got inside of you." Then he casts another sly look at Taylor. "Reckon your Sheriff's real fond of that and all," and he laughs again, leaving Stella struggling against her captor, almost incandescent with rage. Taylor... well, all I can say about him is that Baines is lucky that looks aren't fatal, because the look the Sheriff's giving him now ought to have him stretched out stiffer than a board.

"Anyhow," Baines continues, turning back to the crowd. "Reckon I can find a way to persuade you to remember where them deeds are, 'cause I'm real good at persuadin' people." There's a pause as he hefts his pistol in his hand again. "Maybe a few more bullets in the right kinda' places will loosen _your_ tongue, huh, Sheriff?" And his gaze slides most abominably to Stella leaving no doubt in anyone's mind what he's meaning.

"You'll never..." Taylor hisses, and Baines only laughs more.

"Guess you ain't wantin' to test me though, are you? So here's the deal. Seein' as I'm in a generous kinda' mood, knowin' that I'm gonna be enjoyin' some free alcohol in a few short minutes, courtesy of your Saloon, I'm gonna give you four hours to make your mind up. Four hours to tell me where your deeds are, and then I start usin' up more of my bullets. Reckon we can all cosy up in the Saloon and while we're waitin' real patiently for your answer, me and my boys'll be enjoyin' some liquor."

At that, a wave of protest arises, but Baines is hearing none of it, and there's nothing I or anyone can do for the moment as we're all herded towards the Saloon. A few of his men are sent to make sure no one's left in any of the houses, although as far as I can tell, the whole town is out here already. Danny, I note, is helped to his feet by his fiancée and the Angells have Miss Jessica with them, her face white and strained as she stares over her shoulder at Flack. I see his gaze meet hers as she is taken forcibly away by her parents, all the while with them casting fearful looks at the men aiming their weapons at them. I stand my ground though and when one of the men approaches me, pistol held out, I tell him firmly that I'm not leaving the body of Sinclair out here, that he deserves that small measure of respect.

The man beckons Baines over whose only response is to laugh and tell me I can do what I like with his body, take it or leave it. The callousness of the man and the amusement he is finding in this situation sickens me all over again. Under the watching eye of one of his henchmen, however, Hammerback, after leaving Martha accompanied by Mrs Wildman, assists me to carry Sinclair over to the funeral parlour. There we lay him with as much dignity as we can on a trestle and cover him with a rough sheet, before we are marched at gunpoint back over to the Saloon.

Inside, a dismal sight meets us. The Saloon is packed with the town's citizens, unified in despondency and fear, crammed in there with no consideration to comfort or dignity. Baines, with Stella held by her arm, is holding forth to the crowd making further threats whilst he stands in the centre of the room. Taylor, next to him, is seated on a chair placed in front of the bar. Flack, Louie Messer and his companion are seated on the floor either side of Taylor, and they all have their hands still bound. There is a small circle of bare floor around them, whilst everyone else is pushed in any old how, squeezed against the walls, squashed up on the floor, pressed into every corner. Hammerback and I find ourselves forced into a space a few feet away from Taylor, whilst the man who accompanied us to the funeral parlour remains to stand over us. I look around and am relieved to see Kelly safe a few feet away from me. Once again we exchange a quick smile, to reassure ourselves we are all right.

Then Baines, a wide, skull-like smile on his face, announces. "Four hours, that's all you get, then if those deeds ain't in my hands, I'm gonna take real pleasure in _persuadin'_ your Sheriff to do as I want!"

His eyes are full of nothing but sadism and I am sick with fear at what further wickedness may be coming this way as he pushes Stella, her face still dark and furious, roughly down beside Flack. He steadies her with his elbow so she doesn't lose her balance and she gives him a quick look of thanks. Then as Baines steps over the huddled townsfolk towards the other side of the bar to grab a bottle of liquor off the shelves, she looks up at Taylor and I am able to make out what she says to him in an undertone.

"If he thinks he's firin' any bullets my way, then he's sorely mistaken, 'cause the only bullets fired in here are gonna be headin' right into his black heart!" Her face sets in determination as she continues. "Whatever it takes, Mac, we're gettin' outta this mess."

From the look in her eyes as her and Taylor's gazes stay locked, I have no doubt that she means what she says.

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'd love to know what you thought :) Please review and let me know, and I'll send the extra scene. I'll update again in a week, and will also upate my new story, 'Finding the Future'. Thanks, Lily x**


	23. Hattanville Uprising

**Disclaimer:**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author: **** Lily Moonlight**

**Notes****: Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help and I love knowing what you think. Thanks to **_**Ballettmaus**_** for all her help. Thanks also to **_**Forest Angel**_** and**_** DNAisunique**_** for discussion, and to everyone who sent me a comment and thanks for the extra scene, that was very nice of you all :) **

**There are some darker themes in this chapter; I want it to be realistic, not gratuitous, but just to warn you.**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 23: Hattanville Uprising

Stella:

Mac knows I mean what I say when I tell him we're gettin' outta this mess, and I know he thinks the same. That gives me a bit of reassurance. We're in one hell of a bad situation, but we've been in plenty of others and managed to get outta them, so we can get outta this one too. Though it's sure gonna take some doin'...

Gotta admit, this is one of the most dangerous and downright frightenin' experiences of my life. I'm tryin' to keep myself from givin' into fear though, 'cause fear ain't often helpful, 'specially not in these sorta' circumstances.

Draw my eyes away from Mac for a moment to take a look around and kinda' assess things. Even though it's only just past noon, the sun ain't showin' itself and there's barely any daylight strugglin' in through the windows. Got a few oil lamps around the place, but they don't give out much light, just kinda' cast shadows over everyone.

Still, I can see clear enough Baines, that black-hearted coward, directin' his henchmen. Orders three of them, includin' the man standin' opposite, to stay and stand guard over all of us, while the rest he motions to come with him. Keeps throwin' mockin' looks in our direction as well. Lookin' real smug and pleased with himself. Low-down coward! Gotta say, the men Baines has told to stay put ain't lookin' too happy about that, which might be to our advantage. All the others start grabbin' bottles off of the shelves, availain' themselves of my supplies, laughin' and jeerin', and then they disappear into the back room. None of them carin' who they step on to get there.

Baines stays behind for a moment, choosin' a few more bottles from the end of the bar, snatchin' up a few glasses and all. What he wants with them I ain't sure. Don't reckon he's gonna be bothered about pourin' drinks into them, surely? He don't strike me as a man with those kinda' manners. But he soon walks away again, laughin' to himself. Huh. Don't know what he finds so amusin' all the time. Hated him outside for the way he laughed at the hurt he was causin' folks; _hated_ him. Nothin' I'd like to do more now than wipe that smile off of his face. Sadly, I gotta be satisfied instead with him walkin' outta my line of vision; just as well, 'cause I ain't able to bear the sight of him no longer.

Soon as Baines and his chosen few have disappeared, silence falls over everyone. Folks exchange glances between them: reckon everyone's in somethin' of a state of shock. Couple of the real little ones are whimperin' and bein' soothed as best they can be by their Mamas and Papas. Almost feel like shakin' my head in disbelief. Never thought I'd see a day like this... but then, who's ever gonna imagine that your whole town's taken over by a bunch of outlaws and all the folk in it taken hostage in your own saloon?

That makes me boilin' mad, and what makes me near enough_ burstin'_ with anger is that innocent folks have gotten mixed up in all this. It ain't right that all the children and all the senior folks in town have been herded outta their homes and forced in here to be threatened by one of the cruellest and plain evil men I've had the misfortune to encounter. How _dare_ he come strollin' into our town, tellin' us he's gonna take it from us, and then goes murderin' one of our citizens?

It's nothin' but wickedness! Why, Baines is worse even than some of the low-lives I met travellin' out West all those years ago. There's a look in his eyes; a look I don't care to see at all. It don't bother me that he struck me 'cause as I said, he ain't the first man who's done that; that kinda' thing I can handle, though it sure was a blow I felt. Reckon my face is gonna be hurtin' for a few days yet. But so will Mac's: his poor face is lookin' real sore, his top lip is startin' to swell and there's blood comin' from his nose; gonna be bruisin' showin' soon and all. I know he's in pain and tryin' to hide it. That got me real upset, to see him hurt, knowin' there was nothin' I could do about it. Worst of all Baines's deeds though was the cold-blooded murder of Sinclair. That I ain't ashamed to admit frightened me, made me afraid of what else he was capable of.

Turn my eyes to Mac again and see him lookin' round the place as well; guess to most people his expression's just sorta' stern, but I know hidin' behind it are all his emotions at seein' the folk of the town he vows to protect in this kinda' danger. I'm followin' his gaze as he looks at Hawkes, makin' sure he's doin' all right after his encounter with Baines. His eyes are downcast though and he don't look up. I guess he's shaken by the threats Baines gave him, and by Sinclair's death too. The loss of any life he takes as a real hard blow.

Thought for a few moments earlier that we were gonna lose him as well as Sinclair, 'specially when he spoke up the way he did. Real brave of him, and not the sorta' thing any of us expected from him. Made me hold my breath, hopin' he hadn't gone and said too much. Reckon the whole town was seethin' to see their Doctor treated like that. He's one of the kindest, most caring and gentle men you could know; so I reckon Baines's taunts pushed him to his limits. Could see in his face that it wouldn't have taken much to rouse a temper in him, which is somethin' I never thought I'd be seein'.

Hawkes raises his head then and catches my eye. I'm troubled to see the sorrow in his face; the sufferin' of everyone else has caused him real pain. All I can do is offer him a smile which I hope is an understandin' one. I know he's seein' all the hurt he ain't able to treat immediately; the cold and exposure the oldest and youngest folks are gonna be affected by, and clearest of all, the sufferin' of Daniel Messer.

His experience with Baines has left him lookin' closer to death than I've seen a livin' man. Reckon he caught more than a glimpse of mortality earlier. He's hunched over in a corner, face kinda' grey and hollow, and though Lindsay (who's lookin' real pale herself) is tryin' to get some kinda' response from him, he ain't even able to look at her.

Shocks me to see him like that. Usually there ain't no other man in town more full of life, and impertinence, than he is. There ain't a scrap of that left now, and that's a real sorry thing to see. What happened to him, I wouldn't have wished on any man.

Sinclair, though he may have been a traitor to the town, kinda' redeemed himself with what he did out there. Reckon there ain't a soul in this town who ain't gonna forgive him now. Even though he did a real foolish and thoughtless thing in his dealings with Baines, we owe it to him to bring his murderer to justice. I know Mac's gonna think that too. Ain't no one else I know who takes justice as seriously as he does.

Appreciate Mr Messer standin' up for me and Mac the way he did, but not at the cost of a life. Soon as he opened his mouth, I was prayin' for him to hold his tongue. Guess he couldn't help himself. Know I've been the same on more than occasion, when words kinda' fall outta your mouth before you can stop 'em. If I'd had my hands free, I'd have stopped Baines in his tracks, before he even had a chance to reach for his pistol.

As I'm thinkin' that, there's the sound of rowdiness and glasses smashin' comin' from the back room. Baines and his gang ain't holdin' on back enjoyin' themselves with all that free liquor. That don't surprise me, but it starts uneasiness amongst folk. Guess they're wonderin' what all this is gonna lead to.

Take another look at Mac then, wantin' to know what he's thinkin'. His gaze lingers on me, and I know, alongside everythin' else that's goin' on, he's worried about me, worryin' I'm hurtin' as he looks at my face. "I'm all right, Mac," I whisper to him. "Really."

Guess that's mostly the truth...

Wish my hands were free just to have a touch of his, but I'm gonna have to make do for now with lettin' our looks do the communicatin' between us. As long as I can see him, I can reassure myself he's still all right. Even though I'd give anythin' to be able to wipe away that trickle of dryin' blood from where that... that _bastard _punched him. Guess I'm runnin' out of insults for Baines, and though they ain't ladylike insults, I couldn't care less. There ain't _any_ name that could do him and his wickedness justice. Makes me wonder all of a sudden if Mac's ever had to face anyone like Baines before. He's told me about some of the outlaws he dealt with before he came to Hattanville, but I gotta say, I'll be mighty surprised if he's ever met any as bad as this one...

Speakin' of the devil: Baines himself comes stridin' out from the back room, _my_ back room, where no doubt he's been makin' himself free and comfortable with all my possessions. Huh, he's stridin' through here like he owns the place, which of course he thinks he's gonna do soon. So he _thinks_. That's gonna be happenin' over my dead body... And _that _sure ain't gonna be happenin'. No way he's gonna shoot me despite what he's threatenin'. No way.

Realise my hands are tremblin' with anger as I'm thinkin' all this. Maybe if I'm honest, tremblin' with a bit of fear as well. Most of all though, I'm furious this has happened; that we were tricked like this, me and Mac and Don; that we couldn't prevent all this happenin'; but what we gotta focus on now is gettin' _everyone_ outta here alive. And I'm beginnin' to get a plan formin' about how we can do that...

Baines pushes his way carelessly through everyone on the floor towards where we're sittin'. Ignorin' exclamations from those he's trampled on, he sends a grin in my direction and twirls his pistol. I give him a blank sorta' stare. I ain't gonna let him see anythin' of what I'm thinkin'. Don't want let myself get drawn into any more battles with him neither. Guess I'm afraid of what words might come outta my mouth if he starts tauntin' again. Thankfully though, he don't come any closer than the bar where he grabs another few bottles of my liquor. Tosses a few words to the man standin' by us, tellin' him he's doin' fine work in the way of watchin' us and if he's real lucky he might be gettin' promoted. Promoted? Gotta turn away and shake my head at that. Who the heck does this man think he is, talkin' about _promotin'_ people? Makes me sick...

"Enjoy the next few hours," a voice I've come to loathe the sound of speaks way too close to me. Makes me startle and curse myself; Baines has managed to take me near enough by surprise and is standin' over me grinnin'. Seems he's decided he ain't taunted us enough.

"Oh sure, I'm gonna find real enjoyment sittin' here with my hands tied behind my back," I snap, not carin' anymore about how I speak to him. Seems Mac cares though as I hear the hiss of breath he draws in at that.

Realise, with a sinkin' feelin' inside of me, when Baines crouches down in front of me and kinda' studies me for a moment that I might've gone and said too much. He just stares, lettin' his eyes wander all over me. So close to me I can almost feel his breath on my skin, which is makin' it crawl. Try to push myself back, but he grabs my arm. I'm aware of Mac behind me kinda' jerkin' to try and get free, 'specially as Baines glances at him then with a real evil smile. No doubt rememberin' what Mac said earlier, takin' enjoyment in the fact that he ain't able to stop him doin' anythin' at the moment...

"Leave her alone!" Mac's voice comes gratin' outta his mouth.

Baines sneers and tightens his grip on me. "What would you prefer, Sheriff, want me to shoot her instead?"

"_Never!_" Mac snarls.

Baines don't answer. Instead, he tips up my chin with the end of his pistol. This really ain't good at all. my heart's quickened up, but I _ain't_ gonna show I'm scared; I'm just gonna stare right back at him.

"I can think of some enjoyment you _could _be havin'," he says real softly, with a smile that makes my stomach lurch. "Enjoyment _I_ could be havin' and all." "A lot can happen in four hours," he continues, forcin' my head up higher, the pistol diggin' into my skin. "Or even less than four hours..." I'm breathin' hard, clenchin' my fingers behind my back as he smiles at me, with pitch-darkness behind his eyes. I'm willin' and willin' Mac not to go sayin' or doin' anythin' more. There ain't nothin' he can do here; nothin' either of us can do if Baines really does decide he's gonna have some fun with me.

He ain't the first man to try that, but other times it's happened, I ain't been in such a helpless situation, and I've been able to get out of it unharmed. Can't even begin to think about the consequences of the thoughts Baines has got swirlin' about in his mind. Shudder runs through me, only stopped by the feel of Mac's leg against my back as he presses against me. He'd do his damndest to help me, I know that... but at the moment, there ain't a lot he _can_ do to help.

Finally, after Baines has held my head up long enough for my neck muscles to start achin', he decides he's gonna leave me alone. After pattin' my cheek, the one he struck which sends a dart of pain through it, he releases me and straightens up. I let out a real shaky breath.

"I'll be watchin' that clock," he says with a disgustin' sorta' wink at me. "Who knows, might find time goes faster when we're all havin' _fun_..." With that, he strolls away, tuckin' his pistol back into his holster and clappin' one of the men left to stand guard on the shoulder as he passes him. "Watch 'em all closely," he tells him, smilin' round at the whole town. "If you do, we'll find you a jar or two of bourbon." Then pickin' up more bottles and glasses from off the end of the bar, he disappears into the back room again.

"He ain't gonna do _anythin'_ to you, Stella. Not while I've still got breath in my body," Mac says, not carin' that he's speakin' out loud, his voice fierce and sharp, but with fear underlyin' it. "I ain't gonna let him hurt you again, ain't gonna let _any_ of them hurt you."

Turn my head and manage a kinda' smile at him as our eyes meet. Both of us know that if Baines really decides to do somethin', there ain't much we can do about it unless we get free. What scares me even more, is knowin' Mac's deadly serious about what he says; he'd rather die than let anythin' like that happen to me. And that I ain't gonna let happen; I _can't_; he means too much to my life to let anythin' happen to his. My life without his is somethin' I ain't even gonna contemplate. Makes me think then about what I'd do to stop that happenin', what I'd sacrifice...

But they're thoughts I ain't gonna take no further right now. All I can do for the moment is move back a little way again so I'm restin' against Mac's legs, his knees against my back. Sid, Don and Sheldon are all lookin' at me too, and it gives me reassurance that at least I ain't alone in all this trouble.

That little encounter's made me realise we gotta focus even more now on gettin' free. Take a quick glance at the man opposite us, the one standin' by Sid and Hawkes. He's lettin' his attention wander, which is all to the good. Keeps it away from us and gives us chance to be gettin' free. Seems the idea that most of his pals are drinkin' and enjoyin' themselves without him, has got him a little resentful. Reckon we got around a dozen of these men to deal with; most of 'em are in the back of the saloon, in the kitchen and parlour, with only the three of 'em left to guard all of us here in the bar. There's the one by us, one at the far end of the room and the third by the door. Stoppin' any of us from makin' a break for freedom. However, what they don't know is that this old place has got more than one way out and I got some further ideas formin' about that. Soon as I can, without bein' overheard, I'm gonna pass those plans on to Mac and Don, and then everyone else. Reckon I've gotta be able to make use of the cellars in this place _somehow_.

I guess these odds ain't too bad; over a hundred adults who I reckon are able to stand their ground and fight against twelve men. Sure could be worse. The gang might have had the advantage of surprise, and fear, over us to start with, but we can find our own advantage here. Soon as me, Mac and Don get ourselves free, we can start organisin' folks quietly right under their noses, if they keep themselves distracted by drink.

What we gotta be thinkin', however, is that not all the townsfolk are armed. Likely about half of us are gonna have some kind of weapon on them, the other half are gonna have to be protected. There's another point against the gang, they weren't smart enough to go checkin' anyone thoroughly for weapons. Not that I'm complainin' about that! So they made me, Mac and Don drop our weapons, the ones we were holdin' anyhow, but I still got one or two of my pistols on me, the ones I keep well hidden away amongst my petticoats and underclothes. Unfortunately at the present time, I ain't able to reach 'em, and it ain't real safe to be usin' them. I'm bidin' my time though. These gang members are all armed to the teeth, and much as I'm fond of usin' my pistols, a fire fight's the last thing we want to be startin', not with all these folks in here...

Sound of glass smashin' from the back room makes everyone look around again. It's followed by cheers and laughter, and that makes me feel sour inside. That's all they're good for, enjoyin' themselves at other people's expense, laughin' and jokin' while they got folks sittin' frightened and hurtin'! Damn them! Feel my fists are clenchin and I'm havin' to remind myself again to keep all this anger ready for when I can use it. They ain't gonna get away with this. _No way_...

"Stella?" Mac's voice murmurs in my ear. Turn my head his way and he's bent over a little to look down on me, worry in his eyes, and the bruises on his face showin' more. Oh, seein' him injured and hurt like this and not bein' able to do a thing about it hurts _me_; seein' anyone you love hurt, hurts you more; far more. I'd have taken twice the blow Baines landed on me to have spared him that. But I reckon, 'cause I know how he thinks on most matters, that he'd have been thinkin' the same about me.

Mac's studyin' my face now as he shifts about in the chair he's in, hands straining at the ropes round them, and I know that if he could he'd be layin' a coolin' and gentle hand against my cheek. The layin' of his hands on me ain't somethin' that's ever gonna hurt me. All I can do is smile at him, reassure him I'm still fine and move even closer so now my shoulder's against his knee. It ain't much, but that further touch between us gives us a whole heap of comfort.

Those shouts and bursts of laughter ain't ceasin' and I'm guessin' there's gonna be a whole pile of empty bottles buildin' up already in the back room and kitchen. From the sound of it, seems like Baines and his men are throwin' bottles and glasses around. Breakin' and smashin' stuff up just for the sake of it. Folks round me are exchangin' looks; some of them fearful, some of them disgusted. Glance then at Louie Messer and his pal, Buck; neither of 'em have said a word. Louie's just sittin' there lookin' sick with fear while Buck's gazin' round at everythin'. He don't seem troubled by any of this. Wish I could share some of that feelin'.

I sure as hell ain't happy about my saloon bein used in this way; put my heart and soul into buildin' this place up to have the good reputation it has. Take pride in it bein' the kinda' place the whole town's welcome in. All this makes a mockery of that, with these brutes in here usin' it for their own foul ends. This ain't a town full of saints, but to have _my_ saloon used in this way cuts me deep...

I just gotta keep thinkin' that if it keeps this gang of low-lives busy for long enough, then they can make merry all they want and drink the saloon dry. Maybe they'll even forget about demandin' the deeds we ain't got. Long as they keep their hands off us. After all, liquor can be replaced; the people you care about can't. And after what Baines threatened me with, we gotta be glad they're keepin' their hands off of the women. Though it won't take much, I'm fearin', for that to happen. I ain't naive, I know what some men are like, men like these anyhow, and what kinda' ideas they get in their heads. Or rather what ideas they get in other parts of 'em that ain't fit to mention. Livin' the way they do means they lose most of the decency they might've had to start with. Don't have no respect for anyone, particularly women. And when liquor's taken hold of 'em, there's always the danger it's gonna make 'em lose every last trace of decency.

I'm lookin' round more closely now, seein' where folks are, who they're with and not with. Outta the corner of my eye, I can see Don, Sid and Sheldon keepin' a close eye on the ladies they care about, all of them real unhappy to be separated from them.

"Stell!" I'm startled outta my musings again, this time by Don givin' me a nudge with his elbow. He looks at me with more than a trace of anxiety in his face. "You all right?" he speaks in an undertone as he glances up at the gang member opposite us. But he still ain't takin' any notice of us, and that I'm thankful for.

I give Don a quick smile. "Was just thinkin', figurin' out a few things."

"Same here," he nods, givin' me a questionin' look. "Come to any conclusions?"

"Gettin' there," I answer quietly. "Reckon we sit tight for a little longer, let things settle, let them get a bit careless with watchin' us, then we get ourselves untied and go from there."

He dips his head, and then gives his attention to Miss Jessica again as he looks anxiously towards where she's sittin'. She's almost hidden behind her parents, though I know that ain't gonna be down to her choosin', and her gaze ain't turnin' away from Don; Miss Higgins is bein' shielded by Mr West, one of the gentlemen of the town; and Lindsay, and Mr Messer, are bein' guarded by Martha Hammerback and Mrs Wildman.

I give Don a touch with my elbow and whisper, "She's gonna be all right, Don. We're _all_ gonna be all right."

Turnin' round he flashes me a look of determination, his eyes burnin' a real bright blue. "Darn right," he hisses and turns his eyes back to Miss Jessica.

Tryin' not to heave a sigh, I shuffle myself back again so I'm pressed against the side of the chair that Mac's sittin' on and lean my head against his side. Feel thankful that at least I ain't been separated from the man I love.

"You hear all that, Mac?" I ask, and he answers that he did in a similar quiet tone. Despite the blows he's suffered, he ain't even close to bein' defeated; takes more than the fists of a coward to bow the Sheriff of Hattanville.

Turn my eyes away from Mac for a moment and see that the man opposite has put his gaze back on us and is kinda' leerin' at me. Can almost feel the force of Mac's glare behind me, and I know he wishes he was free to let that man know what he thinks of him and all his associates. I'm feelin' the same myself. But I ain't gonna bother wastin' a perfectly good glare on him. Ain't gonna give him the satisfaction of bein' provoked, and using that as an excuse to try anythin' else...

"You comfortable sittin' down there, pretty lady?" the man says with a smile I reckon he thinks is charmin'. Geez, Baines sure turned the attention on me earlier. Guess my only consolation is that while attention's on me, it ain't on anyone else. And I reckon too that none of the others in the gang are gonna be tryin' anythin' seriously with me, not if Baines has decided he wants me for himself.

But he ain't gonna get me; none of these brutes are.

Even though I ain't able to see Mac, I know he's tensed up already, and I can feel Don sittin' up straighter at my side. Know both of 'em ain't gonna take this easily; both of 'em take the business of protectin' me real seriously, Mac most of all. I'm willin' them now to keep their mouths shut. One wrong word spoken, one misjudged action and it could be the worst for us all. I'm hopin' they can trust me to handle this.

I give the man my sickliest sweet smile. "Yeah, I'm just fine and dandy bein' held hostage in my own saloon..." I say with an exaggerated flutter of my eyelashes. My sarcasm's wasted though, which pains me, 'cause he just grins at me even more. So I continue, lookin' at him kinda' pityingly. "Guess you ain't too happy about bein' forced to keep watch on all of us while your pals are havin' fun drinkin', huh?" My cheek muscles are startin' to ache with smilin' like this, 'specially where Baines hit me. Still, I'll keep it up as long as necessary if this is gonna help us. Sheldon and Sid are lookin' at me now, and reckon they've caught on to what I'm doin'.

Sid chips in then with some of his unique wisdom. "I would think, young sir, that a gentleman such as yourself would find it a great strain to be standing here, unable to partake in the merriment your companions are indulging in. A great strain indeed." He peers over his spectacles as he speaks, and I'm aware of the slightest glint in his eyes.

To say the man looks confused would be understatin' the matter. He kinda' squints at Sid, and I can almost see the effort it's costin' him as he's tryin' to figure out the meanin' of his words and mouthin' them back to himself. Then he grasps at one of 'em like a drownin' man graspin' at a branch.

"Merriment?" he says slowly. "Mr Baines don't like us havin' too much merriment, says it's bad for business." There's an unhappy sorta' look in his eyes now, and Sid gives him a sympathetic smile.

"I'm sure that must be _very_ hard on you all. But it seems as if Mr Baines and _some_ of his companions are allowed to make merry?" He blinks innocently. Well, it might seem innocent, but I know better, and so does Sheldon as the two of us exchange a look.

The man kinda' shifts about then and glances over towards the parlour and kitchen where the loudest sounds are comin' from. Seems like plenty of liquor's bein' drunk through there as there's sounds of real raucous laughter and singin' goin' on. The breakin' of glasses has stopped for a moment, but I'm sure they've got plenty more chaos planned.

As he turns back to us, there's a longin' look in his eyes, and if I ain't much mistaken, a look of rebellion.

"Yeah," he grunts. "We ain't all of us allowed to be with Mr Baines, 'cause some of us ain't been members of his gang for long enough. Maybe when they're all done there'll be a few drops of liquor for us. _We_ might even be allowed to have a little fun..." he sends a smirk at me, which I ignore. It ain't worth a comment. Men like him, seems they've only got one thing on their mind. Sid soon gets his attention again, raisin' his voice as he makes a complicated remark about the properties of alcohol.

So while Sid continues to engage him in a one-sided conversation, keepin' him nice and distracted, I turn back to Don with only one thing on _my_ mind.

Gettin' free of these ropes.

After Baines and his gang tied us up, I thought they were gonna shoot us, had that look in their eyes, Baines most of all. Look that said they'd have no problem in endin' our lives right there and then. But we're still alive and we still got a chance. Soon as me, Mac and Don get ourselves untied, we can start carryin' out the plan I'm thinkin' up.

Checkin' to make sure that Sid, with Sheldon accompanyin' him, is still engagin' his new friend in conversation, and that the other two men ain't lookin' our way, I give Don another nudge. "Hold still a minute," I whisper. "Gonna get you untied..."

Wrigglin' round ain't easy, however, I manage it and we're soon back to back and my fingers are workin' on the knots round his wrists. That sure ain't an easy task neither and it costs me more than one broken and torn fingernail before he's untied and flexin' his hands as discreetly as possible.

"Thanks," he mutters. "Now sit still yourself and I'll get you free..."

Before he does that, the man who's bein' talked to by Sid, turns round unexpectedly and pins us with a glare. I freeze and then attach another smile to my face.

"Everythin' all right?" I ask, my voice almost drippin' with sugar, even though my heart's bangin' inside my chest. Keep my hands still as possible and Don's motionless beside me.

"You ain't tryin' anythin' are you?" the man asks slowly, narrowin' his eyes. I resist the urge to kinda' roll mine; instead, I smile even sweeter at him.

"What could _I_ possibly be tryin'?"

He grunts and hefts his pistol, eyein' me kinda' speculatively. I'm holdin' my breath. Just gotta hope I ain't gone and overdone the poor helpless female act. There's a moment or two of silence as he's thinkin'. Can almost see the cogs turnin' in his head as he's starin' at me, his eyebrows furrowed like two caterpillars and his mouth pursin' up. "Just you be careful then, Miss," he says eventually tryin' to give me a threatenin' sorta' look. "'Cause if you ain't then there'll be real trouble for you."

Now that scares me... I _don't_ think.

"I'm keepin' a careful eye on you," he continues. "You and your friends." He laughs, which sounds kinda' like a drain gurglin' away.

There's another bellow of laughter comes from the back room, and despite his threats, he turns away to look in the direction the sound's come from. Then, shots are fired and frightened exclamations rise up from folks. Makes me catch my breath and all and glance up at Mac, who's real grim-faced. It's followed immediately by roars of amusement and the sound of more breakin' glass, makin' me realise Baines and his gang are likely practisin' their shootin' skills by firin' at bottles and such. No doubt smashin' up even more of my saloon in the process. Makes me grind my teeth, thinkin' about all the mess I'm gonna have to clean up, all this is gonna cost me. And I guess I ain't just talkin' about money costs... Baines is gonna pay for all this; somehow, I'm gonna make sure of that. However, the noise and distraction gives Don the chance he needs and a minute later, I feel the ropes round my wrists droppin' off.

"Thanks," I mutter. "See what you can do in the way of bein' a look-out while I get Mac untied.

"Sure thing," he whispers and I ease myself back further so I'm almost behind Mac's chair, keepin' my hands hidden for the moment.

Then I get a kick on my ankle from Don. "Keep still!" he hisses outta the corner of his mouth.

Look up in time to see Sid's new friend turnin' back to us again, a real suspicious look in his eyes. "What are you..." But he ain't got chance to continue as I've seen Sheldon's foot movin' and landin' a real hard kick to _his_ ankle. "What in hell?" the man splutters, whirlin' round.

His fist looks ready to strike the doctor, but he holds up his hand, lookin' apologetic. "I beg your pardon, Sir," he says. "Get cramp in my legs if I sit like this for too long. An involuntary spasm, that's all it was. No harm intended." He challenges the man with a stare, darin' him to question his explanation.

Much as I'd love to see what's gonna further transpire, I gotta focus on gettin' Mac free. Hawkes is more than capable of handlin' a situation calmly, as he proved earlier; this man's gonna be no match for him.

Quick as I can, I start workin' on the knots that are bindin' Mac's hands together. Sure ain't a simple task, and 'cause I'm aware I ain't got much time, I'm fumblin' and takin' longer than I should. Guess my fingers are kinda' stiff... And these knots have been tied real tight; tighter even than mine and Don's. I'm cussin' those men all over again...

I'm real grateful to Don for movin' himself in front of me while I'm carryin' on with my task. Mac's tryin' his best and all.

"What do you want me to do?" he asks in an undertone. "Is it easier if I kinda' keep still or try wrigglin' my fingers?" Reckon he must have realised my frustration 'cause next thing he tells me I'm doin' fine and that I'm almost there. Even though I know I ain't...

I'm keepin' half an eye on what's happenin' around, even though I gotta concentrate on my task. Gotta trust in Hawkes and Sid bein' able to keep the closest gang member to us from seein' anythin'. Guess I got in my mind as well the fear that it ain't unlikely Baines is gonna come back out at some point...

There's all kinds of shoutin' and uproar comin' from the back room, more shots and all. Don't like to think about how much liquor's been drunk. Can only hope they all drink themselves into a stupor before they do much more damage.

In the bar, the little ones have started cryin' now, and that's addin' to the noise and confusion. That's all to my advantage though. Means I'm less likely to be noticed. Sure hope so anyhow...

One last tug and the ropes drop off Mac's wrists. Movin' his hands in front of him straight away, he reaches for me and grasps my hands, pullin' me closer and holdin' onto me tighter than he ever has before. Lookin' up at him, for the first time since this whole thing began, I see hope in his eyes.

"We're almost there, Stella," he murmurs. "Just gotta..."

"Stella! Mac!" Don hisses frantically, and Mac and I drop our hands and turn to look where he indicates with his head.

My heart plummets almost into my boots. Baines. Headin' our way with purpose in his stride, and even more sin in his eyes.

Reckon anyone near me's gonna be hearin' how my heart's bangin' inside my chest as Baines slows down and makes a real big show of lookin' up at the clock and then towards me. He's got his pistol in his hand, a grin on his face and it suddenly feels like a gapin', black hole has opened up in front of me. I'm aware of Mac's voice in my ear tellin' me he's not gonna let anythin' happen to me, that he's gonna take care of me, but at this moment I ain't able to believe him, and that terrifies me even more.

Then Baines is in front of me; his pistol pointin' right at me and his voice echoin' with the horrors of hell, near enough paralysin' me, as he says he's gotten tired of waitin', he's gonna have his fun now and then he's gonna make sure he gets those deeds. Mac and other voices around me are protestin', but somehow I ain't able to make my voice work. Even if I could, I know it's useless. He reaches for me, face darkenin' as he realises I ain't tied up anymore, then everythin' happens at once; Mac leaps at him with a yell of rage, Don drags me outta the way, Sid and Sheldon grab the other man and pull him to the floor and suddenly the whole saloon's in an uproar with shouts and screams comin' from every direction as I'm tryin' to get myself together again and scramble to my feet.

But then over all the commotion rises a cry of terror that stops everythin' and everyone dead.

"_Fire!_"

**Thanks for reading, I'd love to know what you thought of this chapter - please review and let me know and I'll send the new extra scene. Also, I updated 'Finding the Future' the other day. Yes, I know, I love getting reviews, they're always nice to read. Thank you, Lily x**


	24. Gunsmoke

**Disclaimer:**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author: **** Lily Moonlight**

**Notes****: Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help and I love knowing what you think. Thanks to **_**Ballettmaus**_** for all her help; to **_**fractured-fairytale06, DNAisunique**_** and **_**Brinchen86 **_**for discussion, and **_**afrozenheart412**_** for some extra thoughts.**

**Apologies this took a while to post, my new job has been taking up a lot of writing time. As previously, I'll send an extra little scene to all reviewers. Thank you to everyone who sent me comments on the last one :) Next chapters will be faster as I have chapters 25 and 26 completed.  
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Once Upon A Time In The Old West

Chapter 24: Gunsmoke

Stella

Amazin' how one word can have so much power; 'cause for a few seconds, it seems like we've all been turned to stone; ain't no movement from anyone. Until a scream from somewhere brings us back to life and the whole horror of what that one word means comes crashin' down on me. Even though we've had plenty of snow fallin' and soakin' into the timbers of the buildin', that ain't gonna be much help. Fire's gonna spread fast, we gotta move and get everyone out!

Noise erupts even louder than before; more screams, shouts, cussin'. Don leaps to his feet and charges towards Baines, yellin' at me to let him and Mac deal with him. Mac's already got his hands on the villain, his face red with rage, curses spewin' outta his mouth as he attacks him. Looks like he wants to strangle him at the very least. I feel kinda' dazed momentarily, but get myself to my feet.

Truth is, I want nothin' more right now than to go land a few punches to Baines myself, 'cause I reckon I'd be capable of handlin' the situation. Could sure cause him some damage at least, make him suffer. Know though that ain't gonna be much help, so instead I start doin' what's gonna be most useful. Gonna have to hold onto my anger for the time bein'. This is my saloon, my responsibility. I gotta move fast and get folks out, before there's too much panic; that ain't gonna help no one.

Kinda' feels like a whole tide of people are startin' to swirl round me, tryin' to get away from where the fire's begun, but I'm fightin' to go the other way, yellin' at them to do the same. Main door of the saloon ain't much of an escape route at the moment, not with all that brawlin' goin' on, so I've gotta direct folks out another way. Lookin' towards the back of the saloon, I can see a few wisps of smoke driftin' through the air; the smell of it and the smell of burning's real clear now and I can hear the crackle of flames already. My heart sinks at that; seems it's spreadin' faster than I thought. All you can do with fire is try and defeat it and if that don't work, you gotta escape it. Which is what we're gonna have to do. It ain't gonna wait for anyone. Ruthless, that's what is, plain and simple. I just hope we're gonna be able to save my home...

Tellin' folks to go the same way I'm goin' don't seem to be workin' too well; ain't many listenin', so I start grabbin' hold and pushin' them in front of me, tryin' to guide them away from the fightin' and calm down some of the hysteria that's gettin' a grip. Manage to take a quick look over my shoulder after I've hauled Daniel Messer to his feet and kinda' pushed him into Lindsay's arms, tellin' them both to keep movin', and I see Mac still grapplin' with that monster, Baines. Both of them are exchangin' punches and it makes me wince, seein' Mac bein' hurt again, and seein' the rage with which he lands blows on Baines. The hatred in Mac's face kinda' scares me; scares me that he's capable of that kinda' feelin', and that it's mainly 'cause of what Baines did to me that's produced it. Ain't ever had anyone who cares for me that much before. What scares me most is the thought that he's gonna get himself hurt even worse, or killed defendin' me and the town...

Realise I've come to a stop as a few folks bump into me. Turnin' away from the scene at the front of the saloon, I see a whole lot of scared lookin' faces gazin' at me, waitin' for me to tell them what to do. Give myself a shake; I've gotta trust Mac to keep himself safe, and I've gotta trust Don, Sid and Sheldon to help him out and all, 'cause I reckon they're gonna be trustin' me to play my part.

"Keep movin'!" I yell to everyone, makin' my voice sound stronger than I feel. "We're gonna get to the back of the buildin', behind the stairs, keep goin' that way! We're gonna get out through the cellars."

Martha Hammerback, Miss Higgins and Mr West start guidin' folks as well. Gotta say, I'm real thankful for that, and it gives me another moment to check on Mac and the others again. Seems Sid and Sheldon have gotten control over another one of his gang, and seem to have two of them trussed up like chickens now. Can't see where all the rest of Baines's gang are in all this confusion, but those I can see are rushin' about, tryin' to get themselves to safety, and it's a sight to warm my heart to see other folk startin' to tackle them. Though I guess now the gang are almost the least of our troubles. Reckon all the alcohol they've drunk between them and the threat of fire's gotten them more scared than jack rabbits. And jack rabbits ain't difficult to trap when they're scared.

Before I turn away again, I see Don's turned his attention to another member of Baines's gang, managed to get him wrestled to the floor, looks like he's usin' the ropes he had on his own wrists to tie him up. Feel a sense of justice at that, as I turn back to my task, orderin' folks to keep with me as we move towards the back of the room and the cellars. They're tryin' to see what's goin' on with Baines and all: can't blame them for that, just wish they'd listen to me and take heed of the fact I'm tryin' to get them to safety!

Finally though, folks are listenin' to me and goin' the way I want them to, and I start thinkin' maybe we're all gonna escape this without too much damage. Soon as we got folks outside and safe, we can start savin' the saloon.

Moment we reach the door to the cellars, I grab the lamp I always keep lit and hung over the lintel. It's dark down there at the best of times, and with the day closin' in around us, so it seems, we need as much light as we can get. I pass it to Mr West who looks at me with a question in his eyes I was ready for him to ask.

"It's real easy to find your way out," I tell him. "Just go down the steps and keep straight on till you come to more steps, then push open the wooden doors. You'll come out at the back of the sheriff's office."

"That ain't gonna be a problem, Miss Stella," he says with a smile. "We'll be outside in no time, folks!" he raises his voice, soundin' real cheerful which seems to reassure a fair few folks.

"Thank you," I murmur to him, just brushin' his arm with my hand as he opens the door.

"Any time," he says warmly and touches his hat to me before he disappears into the darkness. With smoke startin' to kinda' wreathe round us, I make sure everyone gets through that door and down those stairs safely, helpin' a few along the way and just managin' to catch a hold of Lindsay who stumbles. She turns a pale face towards me, and the sight of it makes me real worried for the girl; wouldn't be exaggeratin' much to say she looks like a ghost. Ain't got a scrap of colour in her skin and her eyes are like saucers.

"You all right, Lindsay?" I ask, keepin' hold of her arm. She's got her fiancée gripped with her other arm, and seems like the effort of supportin' him's provin' almost too much for her.

She manages a ghastly kinda' smile and nods at me, though her gaze darts away from me as she answers, "Fine, Stella. Honest, I'm fine." Her voice ain't much more than a whisper, but she pulls away from me and disappears down the stairs before I can ask her any more. Gotta make sure I check up on her later. Somethin' ain't right with her, whether it's the strain of everythin' that's happened today, particularly to Mr Messer, or she's sufferin' with somethin' else. For the time bein', I murmur a few words to Martha Hammerback as, holdin' her skirts up and lookin' kinda' nervous, she heads down the stairs. Ask her to keep an eye on Lindsay, which she agrees real readily to do. Reckon she's noticed she ain't lookin' so good and is concerned about her as well. There ain't much Martha don't notice.

She's the last to go down into the cellars. Now I gotta go and check how many other folk are left inside. Gotta take a moment to look around and kinda' get the situation assessed. Realise that the smoke's gettin' worse; makin' it hard to see clearly; makin' me start to cough and all. Stink of it creeps up my nose and the sound of the fire makes my heart beat faster. Glance over to the kitchen and the back parlour, and the sight of flames dancin' inside horrifies me. It's takin' hold way too fast!

Stumblin' over a chair and cussin', 'cause at this point I ain't gonna care if anyone hears me, I start tryin' to gather the rest of the townsfolk that are left together. Sure ain't an easy task. It was dark enough in here to start with, now it's like someone's dropped a veil of smoke over everythin'; it stings my eyes as I strain to see what's happenin' at the front of the bar and how Mac is. Still I ain't able to see what's happenin' with Baines. There's all kinds of shoutin', thuds and curses flyin' around, but the sound's all jumbled together, ain't possible to make out who's doin' it. All I can make out are shapes, grey kinda' shapes, and I ain't got a clue who's winnin' or who's hurt. Or worse...

Takes all my control not to go chargin' over there; gotta fight with myself for a moment again. Baines is one man, I'm remindin' myself, one coward of a man against four of the bravest men in town. He ain't gonna win, he _ain't!_

Tears are prickin' the back of my eyes, which is 'cause of the smoke stingin' them, I know it is. Dash my hand across them and start callin' out for anyone left to move to the back of the room. Manage to find another oil lamp, snatch it just before it rolls off a table and onto the floor. Strikes me then what might've caused the blaze: Baines and his cronies doin' their target practice in the back room must've struck an oil lamp. Damn them! _Damn them!_ All this trouble, this chaos and destruction caused by a bunch of men who ain't got a shred of sense and decency. And 'cause of them, my home is burnin' down around me with people I care about inside!

Costs me real effort to swallow my anger and keep myself together enough to concentrate. Still got folks to help before I do anythin' else. Few are millin' about so I catch hold of them and send them in the right direction, givin' them a few assurin' words as I do so. All the while, I'm lookin' about me, tryin' to keep my eye on everythin' that's goin' on.

Soon notice, as I'm about to head over to the Angell family who are still in here helpin' a few folks, a small and frightened group of townsfolk huddled at the back of the room. Seems they're gonna need helpin' and encouragin' to get outta here, 'cause they've kinda' pressed themselves into a corner, all of them lookin' terrified and stubborn at the same time. Gonna have to get them movin' fast, 'cause with fire, sittin' in a corner ain't gonna do a scrap of good. It don't respect corners, don't respect anythin', in fact. Don't take me more than a few minutes to reach them and get them to their feet, with a few encouragin' words, tellin' them it's gonna be fine. Guess I'm convincin' myself of that fact and all...

Once I've got them movin' towards the cellars, the Angell family approach me. Mr Angell's helpin' Mr Jones, one of the town's real old timers up off of the floor, which is provin' a difficult task given his sticks and the stiffness of his legs, while his wife and Miss Jessica are supportin' Mrs Jones between them. Miss Jessica's attention ain't wanderin' far from where Don is, though we ain't able to see him clearly. Guess she's feelin' somethin' the same as me, wantin' to go and help the man she cares for.

Mrs Angell looks frightened and clutches my arm before I can move. "Miss Stella!" she gasps. "What are we gonna do? The fire's spreadin' too fast!" I can see the beginnings of hysteria in her eyes, which I gotta do somethin' about.

"You can still get out through the cellars," I tell her quickly, givin' her a steady look, not showin' any of the fear I'm feelin'.

Miss Jessica gives me a reassurin' kinda' look. "Pa and me will help see all these folks safely out," she says calmly, even though she pauses a moment to clear her throat, and she's got worry in her eyes as well. The smoke around us is gettin' worse, got a real nasty, acrid smell to it, and it's startin' to dry our throats out. Mrs Angell throws a look over at the back room, and her eyes widen in horror, but fortunately, Mrs Jones provides a distraction.

"Reckon you got some secret ways you're gonna show us, ain't you, Miss Stella my dear?" she pipes up in a quaverin' voice and her eyes sparkle at me. Even in the situation, I gotta give her a smile. She's a real tiny old lady who ain't much bigger than a bird; reckon she's gotta be long past seventy and deaf as anythin' but her mind's as sharp as a razor. Got a whole heap of admiration for her.

"I got a few, Mrs Jones," I tell her, speakin' as loud as I can, as I'm drawin' her and her husband and the Angells along with me towards the group of townsfolk in the corner. "Don't you worry, we'll soon have you and Mr Jones back home and tucked up safe and warm in your beds."

"I know you ain't gonna let us down," she says with absolute certainty. "You're a good girl." She pats my arm and gives me a smile, which I manage to return. Feel kinda' humbled at the faith she's got in me. Wish I could feel as calm and certain as she does.

I raise my voice so everyone around me can hear, and hold the lamp so they can see me. "The cellars are the safest way and the quickest, you'll be outside in no time. Promise you all, it ain't hardly gonna take any time to get out. Before you know it, you'll be back safe in your houses."

A few faces are lookin' frightened at the thought of goin' down into dark cellars, and I know it's gonna prove a frightenin' experience for some of the little ones, but maybe I can kind of turn it into an adventure for them, maybe a couple can take charge of the lamp, might take their minds off bein' scared.

"I need some real responsible folk to carry this. Maybe a couple of you young ones could be a real help and hold it to light the way?" I ask, holdin' the lamp higher and castin' my eyes round the children I can see, makin' a show of studyin' them real carefully. Same time, I'm doin' my best to ignore the growin' sound of flames and the shadows flickerin' on the walls. Horrible sight it is; looks almost like they're reachin' for us so I raise the lamp as much as I can, tryin' to send them away with the light it casts.

Notice a couple of especially eager young faces; recognise them in fact - Lindsay had pointed them out to me a while back, 'cause they were always real sensible in the schoolroom she said. They'd looked real nervous just a moment ago as well, so reckon this'll do them both good. Givin' them a smile, I hand over the lamp and they reassure me they'll be as careful as anythin' and that they ain't gonna drop it. Tell them I know they ain't gonna be careless and I trust them, and catch the eyes of their parents at the same time. Look of gratitude in their faces, although I weren't needin' any thanks, is real nice to see.

Seems everyone's just about ready to go, so I turn back to Mrs Angell, who still ain't calm; her face is flushed and her breathing's comin' kinda fast, her husband's lookin' anxiously at her and all. Hope she ain't gonna faint on us. Guess she's only stayed in here this long 'cause her husband and daughter have.

"Come on, Mrs Angell, you're gonna be fine," I say, takin' hold of her other arm. And even though she still looks scared, she lets me lead her willingly enough to the door of the cellar. Still with my arm linked through hers, I watch to see everyone gets down safely, seein' the light from the lamp bobbin' about as the two little ones carryin' it go down the stairs. Folks file after them, leavin' the Angells and Mr and Mrs Jones till last. Let go of Mrs Angell and she allows her husband to guide her in front of him real gently, murmurin' a few soothin' words to her. She clutches his hand, starin' fearfully at him for a moment, but then she kinda' screws her face up in determination and goes through the door in front of him, still holdin' Mrs Jones' arm.

Miss Jessica follows, but before she goes, she looks at me. "Be careful, Miss Stella," she says, a warnin' note in her voice. "Guess sometimes you're a lady who goes takin' a few risks, but this ain't the time. Get yourself out soon as you can," she pauses and brushes the skirt of her dress, lookin' away from me for a moment, then her dark eyes rise to meet mine again, a trace of fear in them. "And don't let Don go takin' any risks he don't need to either, please."

Though Miss Angell ain't someone I've had many conversations with, I got a deal of respect for, from knowin' her the short time she and her family have been in town.

"Don's gonna be fine, I can promise you that," I say firmly, rememberin' sayin' somethin' similar to the man himself only a short time ago; almost makes a smile come to my lips thinkin' about it. "And I ain't gonna be stayin' in here longer than I have to neither." That's as true as I can make it; I know I ain't gonna leave till everyone else is outta here; everyone from the town that is. Baines and his gang are another matter.

"Make sure you ain't," are Miss Jessica's partin' words as she hurries down the steps after her mother. Mr Jones and Mr Angell are the last to go, and both of them give me a warnin' and all not to stay in here, Mr Angell glancin' over his shoulder at the same time at the fire I'm all too well aware is right behind us. I usher them down the stairs real quick, not givin' them any chance to keep talkin'. Now I got all of them to safety, all I gotta do is make sure there ain't anyone I've missed and then go find out what Mac's up to.

Trouble is, findin' Mac, I realise, ain't gonna be easy. Smoke's thickened now, meanin' I can see even less. Even though my sight's kinda' blurred, my other sense are workin' too well. Can hear plenty; glass smashin', yellin', sound of wood splinterin' which is no doubt all my chairs and tables breakin'. Smell of smoke's almost chokin' now, and the sorta' sharp and hot smell of flames is even closer. Feel a kinda' burnin' hot breeze liftin' the hair on the back of my neck. The fire's makin' a sorta' screechin' sound and before I can stop myself, my hand flies to my mouth and a cry escapes my lips. My home's bein' wrecked from the inside out and there ain't nothin' I can do about it! Whirlin' round, I plunge forward tellin' myself it's just wood and nails, it's just a buildin', it don't matter... somehow I ain't convincin' myself.

But can't think about it now, I can't. I gotta find Mac, gotta try and help him take down that villain Baines; the one who's responsible for all of this.

Manage to duck just in time as a bottle goes flyin' past my ear; next thing, a man near enough goes flyin' past me and lands a few feet away. Lies still a moment while I'm standin' in shock. Next thing, he scrambles to his feet and I recognise him as one of Baines's gang. Picks himself up and staggers forward, headin' right towards me, then he kinda' veers away and starts headin' towards the flames. Hesitate for a moment, before settin' my face, I grab a hold of his arm and shove him towards the cellar door, 'cause I ain't gonna let him burn to death, even if there's a part of me thinkin' he deserves whatever he gets himself into.

"Get yourself down there!" I yell, and he blinks at me before stumblin' down the steps and into the darkness.

Turnin' back to the front of the saloon, I start to panic, 'cause there ain't no sign of Mac or Don, or Sid and Sheldon. Try and find my way towards the bar where the sounds of brawlin' have died down, which makes me even more worried.

"Mac!" I'm spinnin' round, startin' to feel dizzy now. Bumpin' into all the mess of broken tables and chairs strewn about the place ain't helpin' neither; gonna be covered in bruises by the mornin'... "_Mac!_ Where are you? Come on, Mac, please, answer me!" Ain't no response, and despite the heat in here, there's ice cold crawlin' over my skin. Feel like I don't know where I am, ain't able to see much of anything, except flames and smoke and blurred sorta' shapes. Mac and everyone else have gotta be somewhere near though, just have to find them...

"Where do you think you're goin, hey?" At the sound of that voice, fear hits me. I whirl round and find Baines in front of me. Ain't no chance to do more than gasp as he grabs hold of my arm and yanks me towards him, makin' me crash into him. His face glares into mine, his eyes burnin', the flames reflected in them. "Thought you could escape me, did you?" he snarls, shakin' me hard. "Well, I got news for you; you ain't escapin' me so easy." A cackle of laughter splits his lips, and I'm strugglin' hard to break free; land a couple of blows to him, but they don't seem to make no difference to him; the grip on my arm stays tighter than a vice. Sweat and blood streaks his face, his forehead's gashed and his cheek's cut deep. Moment I look into his eyes, I see somethin' else that turns me sick and afraid. There ain't an ounce of sanity left in him; if there was any there to start with, it's all gone now, all burned away.

And I'm facin' him on my own.

There ain't a sight of Mac, can't see him at all, anythin' could've happened to him. If this brute's free to grab hold of me, what has he done with Mac? My heart grows colder and colder as Baines with a wild snarl of laughter starts draggin' me towards the back of the saloon, towards the flames, the heat of them scorchin' my skin. I'm fightin' as hard as I can to get free, pryin' at his fingers, tryin' to get them off of my arm; whether it's the strength of insanity or somethin' else, I ain't able to escape.

"Mac!" I'm yellin', desperately now, realisin' gettin' outta this situation by myself ain't likely. He ain't answerin', and the more I'm yellin', the more all that smoke's bein' sucked into my lungs, makin' me cough.

"He ain't gonna hear you," Baines says in a sing-song voice. "He ain't gonna be able to save you now, made sure of that when I knocked him down. You're comin' with me, and you ain't gettin' away this time!"

The heat and the horror of what he says almost overpowers me, but findin' every scrap of strength I got left, I shout, "I sure as _hell_ ain't comin' with you!" I'm still battlin' to get loose, knowin' Hell's the only place he's headin', if he carries on towards the fire. Trouble is, if I ain't able to free myself, he's gonna take me right along with him. Oh God, where's Mac? Where is he? What has Baines done with him?

"Mac! Mac, _please!_" Gettin' frantic now, twistin' about as Baines is draggin' me on, even though I'm tryin' to let myself go limp, try and get free that way. It don't fool him; he simply throws his other arm round my waist and hauls me forward.

"You're gonna tell me where those deeds are and you're gonna get them for me," he hisses, shakin' me again, the sweat drippin' off his face. "Your Sheriff wouldn't tell me, but I reckon _you_ can..." Strange look crosses his face, and his eyes glaze as he stares at me, stoppin' for a moment. "Yeah, you can tell me, then you know what? Maybe you and me can run this town together..." his smile turns real crazed. "With your Sheriff outta the way, it's just me and you. Always wanted a pretty lady to help me run things, reckon you'd be good at runnin' things with me..."

My blood almost boils over at that and I stamp down on his foot and claw at him, shoutin' that he ain't _ever_ gonna be runnin' _anythin'_ with me. Almost like he don't feel it or hear me though; he simply lets go of my waist and traps both my hands in one of his, laughin' and laughin' at me, that laugh that's been ringin' in my ears all day since this whole nightmare began. And as he keeps on laughin' and pullin' me closer and closer to those flames and my struggles are useless, I'm terrified that his laugh is gonna be the last thing I ever hear. With what feels like almost my last breath as smoke draws into my lungs, I cry out for Mac, feelin' like the sound's smothered by the screamin' of the flames we're almost in the middle of. My face burns with the heat from them, and I'm tryin' to dig my heels into the floor, but it ain't workin'. I ain't gonna get away this time...

Feel my vision start to blur, my hands scrabble at Baines's arm, and then next thing I know, his grip's gone from my arm and I've dropped to the ground as there's a thump beside me.

"Stella!" The best sound I could ever hear, one that drives all the echoes of Baines's manic laughter outta my ears, Mac's voice speaks to me and his hands wrap around me, pullin' me to my feet real gently and carefully. Touchin' my face, his eyes full of concern he asks if I'm all right and all I can do is nod while I'm gettin' my breath back and takin' in the sight of him, alive. Sure, he ain't lookin' his best, with smudges of dirt on his face and blood tricklin' from a cut above his eye, but he's _alive._

"What happened?" I choke out. "What did he do to you? He said he knocked you down..." Mac pulls me into a hug as he reassures me he's fine, that Baines knocked him out for a few minutes, but he ain't damaged badly.

We pull apart, kinda' stare at each other for a moment, and look down at the still figure of Baines lyin' sprawled on the floor. My eyes turn to the piece of wood Mac's got in his hand, which he drops. Now I've recovered myself a bit, I gotta just say one thing to him.

"You know, I reckon I could've managed myself..."

His eyebrow rises as I look up through my eyelashes at him. "Reckon you could, but you gotta allow me to help you out sometimes, Stella," he says, a small smile on his lips.

This ain't the place, however, to be standin' havin' this kinda' conversation. Ask Mac where Don, Sid and Sheldon are and he reassures me that they're safely outside; made sure of that soon as he came round.

"Anyone else left in here?" he asks. "Apart from us?"

Shake my head after glancin' round, squintin' through the smoke. "Don't reckon there is, but ain't no harm in checkin'." I want to get outta here and start tryin' to put the fire out, but gotta make certain we ain't left anyone behind before we leave.

"What about him?" I ask, indicatin' Baines. There's silence between us for a moment.

"He's safe where he is for the time bein'," Mac grunts, takin' my arm to move me forward. "Makin' sure we got the townsfolk out's our priority."

Can only agree, so with our arms linked, we push our way through the smoke, checkin' every corner we can, keepin' back from the worst of the heat. The whole back end of the saloon's blazin'. Heck, this is a bad situation! Flames are leapin' up everywhere now and I'm lookin' over at the bar with a terrible fear in me, 'cause I know just how lovin' of fire all those bottles of liquor are, and how any flames are gonna seize hold of 'em. Just gotta hope Don and the others are out there findin' somethin' to start puttin' the fire out, otherwise, there ain't gonna be much of a saloon left before long.

Takes us longer than we meant it to till we've searched out every corner of the Saloon that we can reach and made sure there ain't no one else but ourselves left in here. After another silent question and answer between me and Mac, we go back to where we left Baines.

And stop dead 'cause he ain't there no more.

Mouths kinda' gapin' in surprise, we gotta take a second to stare at each other, and then glance round. Ain't no sign of the man.

"He must've got out," Mac says, a frown crossin' his face as he looks real uneasy. "Don's no doubt lockin' him up right now..."

My eyes are locked on his, and I'm tryin' to ignore the fear that's crawlin' up my spine, expectin' Baines to come like somethin' outta the underworld towards us at any moment. "Yeah," I say uncertainly. "No doubt..."

Mac takes my hand. "Then there's nothin' keepin' us in here, come on, time we got outta here and all."

We start forward, and faint as anythin', there's a cry. We freeze, hands clasped together as we swing round towards the sound, and back to each other; questionin' each other silently if we really did hear what we thought.

It comes again and this time there ain't no mistakin' it. Someone's callin' for help, and there's only one person it could be.

Baines.

Mac's face blanks, and then a hard look comes over it, and he tugs at my hand. "We're gettin' outta here," he says roughly.

Take a few steps along with him, but then I stop, stoppin' him with me. "We gotta see who it is, Mac. Mightn't be him, might be someone we missed..." Don't believe that truly, but if there is someone we've missed, someone from the town, then we ain't ever gonna be able to forgive ourselves. If it is Baines callin' for help, well then, we decide what we're gonna do when we find him. "We gotta check."

Mac's eyebrows have lowered and I can see he's fightin' with himself, but he gives in and we start movin' towards where it seemed like the cry for help came from; towards the back of the buildin'; towards the fire.

We're headin' right into the flames and as the smoke billows round me, I'm strugglin' to take it all in, what's happenin' to my home. It's burnin' down around me, and here I am searchin' for one of the men who's responsible; the worst one of all; the one who'd have had no hesitation in killin' me. There's a voice whisperin' in my ear, sayin' maybe he don't deserve rescuin', maybe we should leave him where he is, and glancin' at Mac, I can see the same argument goin' on inside his conscience and all. Both of us are starin' at each other, our thoughts kinda' flashin' between us, almost as visible as we are to each other.

We know full well that it'd take nothin' more than for us to do nothin' and one of the cruellest, most wicked human beings we've ever met would be taken from this world. All we gotta do is walk away, maybe even pretend we ain't heard him callin' for help. We could pretend that the sound of the flames was too loud for us to hear clearly, we could've imagined it after all. It's possible he got out through the back somehow and we ain't hearin' nothin' but the sound of the fire playin' tricks on our ears. Guess it'd be real easy to walk out. Maybe that's what he deserves; maybe that'd be best. Could be said we'd be dealin' him justice, Mac and me, if we left him here.

Could we really do this? Could we really leave a fellow human being to suffer what's gotta be one of the most terrible deaths there is, bein' burned alive?

Tearin' our gazes away from each other, we take a couple of steps forward and stumble over a body lyin' on the ground; Baines, trapped beneath a piece of wood. Get a sudden memory of Mac down in the gunpowder works, caught by the beam that fell on us; after the man lyin' in front of us set a trap. Could almost laugh at the irony.

"Help… help me!" his voice is real faint as his hand clutches at my skirts.

I can't keep the sarcasm outta my voice as I answer him. "What else d'you think we're here for? Reckon we're stayin' in a burnin' buildin' for fun, huh?"

"Help…" he wheezes, strugglin' to move, even though his chest's pinned down. "I can't… can't get up…"

"Havin' a beam lyin' on top of you's likely the cause of that," I snap, then cough some more; it's gettin' sorta' hard to talk and breathe, gonna have to keep my talkin' to a minimum here. Heat from the flames is gettin' hard to bear and all. Ain't never felt such a terrible heat before.

Mac ain't sayin' a word, he's just starin' at Baines.

"We gotta get this off of him," I say, and he turns his gaze on me.

"Don't know if I'm gonna be able to," he says, and there's red and orange gleams in his eyes as he stares at me and his voice is almost drowned out by the roar of the fire. "Looks too heavy to me..."

I know what he's sayin', know what he's thinkin' and all. Wouldn't be any blame attached to us if we said the beam was too heavy to move; wouldn't be a soul in town who'd condemn us. Least we tried, folks would say. Some might say we've tried too much already...

"No," I say, almost surprisin' myself, 'cause I'm goin' against what I want to do, what the image of Brigham Sinclair's body in the snow wants me to do, what the memory of Baines's pistol pressed into my skin and his voice threatenin' me with all kinds of torment wants me to do. "We ain't gonna leave him, Mac. We can't. Makes us as bad as him. We have to get him outta here, we gotta try at least."

It ain't convincin' him though; can see he's rememberin' the same as me; how he felt about it all. Baines groans and clutches at me again, and as he does, I realise I ain't afraid of him no more. Not now, seein' him like this, known' his life's in our hands. He's helpless, relyin' on us to save him, and that's taken all the power he had to frighten and threaten away. Ain't nothin' left of the villain but a man with a broken body and a broken mind. Could almost pity him; almost.

For the second time in a few days, I take hold of somethin' I ain't gonna be able to move by myself.

"You've gotta help me this time, Mac, we gotta do this fast." Fair bit of my strength's goin' on coughin' and I'm aware of those flames creepin' nearer to us every second, and the clouds of smoke thickenin' round us. He's still hesitatin' though. "Mac, come on!"

One final look of scorn and disgust at Baines and he silently takes hold of the other end of the wood, starts liftin' it. Feel my muscles strainin' with the weight of it, but between us we manage to lift it off of Baines and let it crash to the ground. The moment we do, he seems to pass out; his head flops to the side and his eyes close. Still without sayin' a word, Mac takes hold of his shoulders and starts draggin' him towards the front door, now there's nothin' near it blockin' our way. I grab Baines's ankles to move him round, coughin' even more. My throat feels like it's on fire, burnin' hot and kinda raw and scraped. What I wouldn't give for a glass of ice cold water.

We're a few yards from the door, almost out into the snow and the fresh air. Just before we reach it there's a sorta' poppin' sound and the glass in the windows blows out. Makes me wince; sends in a little more air for us to breathe, same time it makes the flames behind us grow even bigger, helpin' them destroy my home and possessions even faster.

We push forwards, Mac movin' real fast, but something's holdin' me back; the one thing I ain't _ever_ gonna be able to replace, that I ain't gonna be able to let be destroyed. Know it's real risky doin' this, goin' back into the fire, and I know Mac'll try and stop me; so I ain't gonna tell him.

I gotta do this by myself.

Makin' sure Mac's head's down and his gaze ain't on me, I let go of Baines, take a big gulp of the air that's blowin' in from outside, and turn round and run back towards the flames.

**I'd love to know your thoughts on this chapter. Please review and let me know. Thanks very much, Lily x**


	25. How Hattanville Was Won

**Disclaimer:**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author: **** Lily Moonlight**

**Notes****: Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help and I love knowing what you think. Thanks to **_**Ballettmaus**_** for all her help. Thanks also to **_**cmaddict, Brinchen86, sarramaks **_**and**_** Blue Shadowdancer **_**who read an early draft of this**_**. **_**Strangely enough, I wrote this chapter and the next one back in September, so they've been completed for ages; I just had to write the chapters in between :) And then adjust this one a bit :P As previously, I will send a short extra scene to all reviewers. Thanks to everyone who sent comments on the last scene. **

Once Upon A Time In The Old West

Chapter 25: How Hattanville was won

Mac:

Soon as I feel cold air against my back, I let Baines drop onto the snow-covered boardwalk, and look up to check on Stella. My heart almost freezes: she's nowhere in sight and the only explanation that comes into my mind is that she's collapsed from all that smoke, somewhere inside.

I run back into the Saloon and stare round wildly, knowin' I gotta find her, fast. I'm in the midst of a choking cloud of smoke and heat, near deafened by the screeching flames and the crackle of wood. Wood that's started breakin' down. All the alcohol behind the bar's startin' to explode, glass is flyin' everywhere... Guess it's only the fact the fire started at the back of the buildin' that the saloon's still standin', but it ain't gonna be standin' much longer, and that almost stops my heart with fear.

_Because Stella's still in here..._

If draggin' that piece of scum away from a certain death has caused her more harm, then I'm gonna finish him off myself. I'm ragin' with fear and anger, but I gotta stay calm and find Stella, and get her outta here.

"Stella!"

Ain't no answer forthcomin', so I stumble forwards, holdin' my sleeve over my mouth and nose and coughin'.

"_Stella!"_

Can just about make out the interior of the saloon, or what's left of it. Fire's taken hold, and at the back of the buildin', there's a curtain of flame and smoke.

Dark shape of the bar's ahead of me now, but no sign of Stella. I'm startin' to despair, and the terrifyin' thought of her lyin' somewhere overcome by smoke, and me unable to find her till it's too late, grips me. This is _my_ fault. Should have kept a closer eye on her as we were draggin' that damned coward Baines out...

But there's a voice, not too far ahead of me, and it restores my hope.

"Get out, Mac! You... you shouldn't have come after me!"

"What the hell else did you think I was gonna do?" I shout back, unable to keep the frightened fury outta my voice, though I'm almost choked by relief at hearin' her. Start towards where I've heard her, realisin' with what she's said, that she chose to go back inside. Why, I ain't able to figure out; figurin' out's gonna have to wait, however.

Finally I see her, crouched at the bottom of the stairs. One hand grips the newel post, the other's clutchin' somethin' to her chest. Her head's bowed and she's coughin' hard.

"Ain't gettin' outta here without you!" I yell as I fight my way through the smoke towards her. "Don't know why the heck you went back in, but we're gettin' out now, before this whole place collapses!"

She shakes her head, and makes an attempt to pull herself to her feet, but another fit of coughin' stops her. Heat and smoke's gettin' to her fast. Gettin' to me too. Much longer in here, and neither of us is gonna be leavin' alive. But that ain't somethin' I'm gonna allow. Not while I still got breath in my body and strength in my limbs. If I have to put my life in a little danger for her, so be it. Stella risked her life for me riding back to town in a blizzard and I won't _never_ forget that. And if I have to, then I'll walk through fire for her.

Way these flames are creepin' forward though, it might well come to walkin' through fire for her. But I ain't gonna mind it; only a few more steps and I'll be at Stella's side...

"_Mac!_" she gives a hoarse cry. "Above you!"

Look up just in time to see a blazin' chunk of wood fallin' towards me, and I leap back not a second too soon. Near enough singes my eyebrows on its way past, but it misses me. Trouble is, where it lands, the floor immediately flares up, and suddenly there's a line of fire in between me and Stella.

She's hauled herself to her feet now and stares in horror, her face glowin' in the light, streaked with smoke. Then her eyes meet mine and the look in them frightens me; seems to have lost all her determination, seems like she's almost given up and has resigned herself to losin' her life along with her home.

"You have to get out," she says. "Leave... leave me to get myself out..." Another bout of coughin' shakes her.

"You know that ain't gonna happen!" I yell. "No way I'm leavin' without you!"

Liftin' the collar of my coat, tryin' to get some protection round the skin that's exposed, I edge forward. Bein' tentative ain't gonna work though. It's a case of now or never, so without thinkin' anymore about it, I kick the piece of wood outta the way. Luck's on my side, and it clears the tiniest gap for me to leap through. Land a little awkwardly on my bad leg, but Stella catches me, and we both fall back against the stairs. Both of us are breathin' hard and findin' it kinda' difficult to catch our breath, so for a moment, we hold onto each other, buildin' our strength up, usin' the solidness of the banisters, what's left of them anyhow, as support. We're a long way from bein' outta danger yet. Still holdin' on tight to each other, we pull ourselves to our feet, and survey the scene in front of us. It's a scene that, if I'm truthful, puts more fear in me than I've felt in a long time, even more than when I was trapped down in them gunpowder works. We're surrounded by flames and heat and smoke. Gotten so bad in the few minutes it took me to reach Stella, that I ain't even able to see the door now. Behind us, there ain't nothin' left but flames and a sorta' skeleton of blackened timbers. The furniture's almost eaten away by fire, and the staircase has got tongues of flame lickin' at the far end of it.

"Stella!" I take hold of her shoulders. "We're gettin' outta here _together_ and that's all there is to it. Can't do this on my own, you hear me?"

She stares at me before noddin', and relief washes through me at the determination which is back where it belongs in her face. "I hear you," she says, even as she's coughin' again. Got to get her out; smoke's a killer, and she's been in here longer than me.

"Reckon you gotta allow me to help you again, huh?" she asks, her voice startin' to crack.

I lift a hand to her cheek, the one the sonofabitch lyin' outside dared to strike, and touch it as gentle as I can. "Reckon so," I say, suppressin' another cough knowin' this is her way of askin' for help without admittin' she needs it. Even half-choked with smoke, she ain't lettin' go of her pride. Can't help but admire her for that, even if it exasperates me too.

I soon got my arm supportin' her, and in turn, she slips hers round me and holds on with a determined grip.

"We're gonna... gonna have to run for it, no stopping till we're outside..." she says, but there's no mistakin' the strength and resolution there as she looks into my eyes. Sends the same right into my heart, and I _know_ we're gonna make it.

But there's one more thing I gotta do first, so lettin' go of her for a moment, I shrug my arms outta my coat, and throw it round her shoulders. Ain't much protection, but it's gonna have to do. Flames are edgin' closer to us, and I'm terrified that it'd only take one lick of them for her dress to catch alight. Least it's a long coat and covers most of it.

"You ready?" Gotta raise my voice now, sound of the flames is increasin', even though it makes me cough again, and she answers me as loud and clear as she can manage.

"Ready!"

She tucks whatever she's holdin', whatever it is she must've came back in for, into a pocket of my coat, before arranging it so it's partly round me as well.

"Big enough for sharin'," she fixes me with a look. "So... so don't you go arguin'."

"Ain't got time for arguin', we gotta move!"

Disregardin' her pride this time, I'm makin' sure she's got most of the coat round her. It's gonna offer little enough protection as it is, and I ain't so worried about myself. Ain't forgotten neither how she left her coat with me down in the gunpowder works against the cold. All I'm doin' is returnin' the favour.

Then, not havin' a second more to spare, with our arms entwined round each other's waists and pressed so close together we can feel the beat of our hearts, we plunge forward through the smoke and heat. Tryin' to ignore the need to cough my lungs up, so it seems, I wrap my arms tighter round Stella, drawin' her closer to me as we're movin', tryin' to keep her face to my chest and pullin' the coat up to protect her head as much as I can. We're holdin' onto each other for dear life. Not gonna let anythin' separate us, certainly not death. Not here, not now. _Never._

I keep my head bowed, over the top of hers, movin' almost blindly, kinda' goin' on instinct towards where I know the door oughtta be. Sure seems to be a long way away though. We stumble, almost trippin' over the debris that's fallen, and it seems to be takin' forever and a day to reach the safety of outdoors. Sweat's pourin' down my face. Ain't ever felt heat like this before; even the hottest midday summer sun don't feel like this. This is heat that scorches your very eyeballs, scalds your lungs and feels like sandpaper on your skin. Remember thinkin' not so long ago when I woke up that I might've been called up to Heaven. All I can think now is that this has gotta be like bein' trapped in Hell.

But that's lettin' my fear get the better of me. Neither me nor Stella's gonna be goin' anywhere near Heaven or Hell yet. There's life waitin' for us. We just gotta keep goin'... We _gotta._

Can't seem to get enough breath in my lungs though. Feels like my chest is about to explode and my muscles are heavier than lead. Each step takes energy away from me I don't have and I'm startin' to feel the heat of panic now. I risk loosin' one of my arms from round Stella to wave it in front of me, see if I can feel anythin' like the outline of a door... Don't feel nothin' solid though. Nothin' but the near overpowerin' heat. Why ain't we reached the door yet? If we've lost our way inside...

No! We're gonna get out! I force myself to look up, and have to close my eyes almost the same instant. Unless they've played tricks on me though, I saw a gleam of white not far off... Gotta be the door and the snow outside. It's _gotta_ be!

"Almost... Almost there..." I choke, feelin' more heat swallowed into my lungs the moment I open my mouth.

My legs are almost givin' way, when I feel the pressure of Stella's hand against my back. Gives me all I need, and with a last desperate burst of energy, we push onwards and a moment later, our feet take us tumblin' over the threshold and we're feelin' the blessed relief of clean, cold air. We fall forwards and land not in the snow, but into the arms of Don Flack.

"Where the hell have you two _been?"_ he roars, draggin' me to my feet first, terror evident in every syllable. "Turn my back for a minute and you've disappeared! Tell me you had a _damn_ good reason for goin' back in there! Was just about to come runnin' in after you both, cussin' your names to high heaven!"

Gotta take a few good lungfuls of air before I can answer him. Bitin' cold air it is, rough and raw, but it feels like silk in my lungs.

Realise, as I'm thinkin' how I'm gonna placate Don, that I still got a tight grip on Stella; clutchin' her shoulder, to support and reassure myself as much as her. She's bent over, coughin' and gaspin' for breath, not able to find her voice for the moment. So it's down to me to answer a furious Don Flack. Before I do though, he drags both of us off the boardwalk and into the street, away from the fire.

"Had... had to go back," I cough, startin' to recover myself. "Stella..."

Then I stop, feelin' like I'm layin' blame on her, which ain't what I want to do.

"What in hell did _you_ think you were doin' going back in?" he yells in bewilderment at Stella. "Did the small matter of the place collapsin' around your ears in flames escape your notice? Talk to me!"

"Don! Leave her. Now... now ain't the time," I order between gasps for air, though I'm mad with her myself for runnin' back in there.

His eyes are wide and his hands are raised, but then he lets them drop to his side, and a helpless look appears in his face. "Don't know what to say to you," he says, lookin' between the two of us. "Guess I'd better start by askin' if you're both all right."

Ain't so sure of the answer to that question, but I'm gonna give it a try. Soon as I can get my breath anyhow... Got my hands on my thighs, bent double, suckin' in as much air as I can into my lungs in between coughin' the smoke out. Never been so grateful for the sweet mountain air we live in. Stella ain't lookin' so good. She's on her knees, wheezin', leanin' on one hand whilst the other's held to her chest.

"We're... we're alive," I manage to say to Flack.

He raises an eyebrow as he looks first at me then Stella, but he's a little calmer when he speaks. "Through nothin' but sheer luck and overworked guardian angels... Geez, I'm tellin' you, you don't know how thankful I am! Startin' to get a little ridiculous the number of times you've cheated death the last few days. I was thinkin' you'd risked your necks one too many times when I realised you were both still in there. Still don't know what the heck you were thinkin..." Stoppin' suddenly, he pulls his hat off his head, scrubs his hand across his forehead, then jams it back on. "Still, guess it's fair to say neither of you are in a fit state for questionin' right now." Studyin' us, he scoops up a handful of clean snow and holds it out to Stella. "Get some of this in your mouth, ain't got any water to hand, so this is gonna have to do. You both gotta have somethin' to cool your throats with." She takes it from him after a moment and I follow suit, scrapin' up a handful myself and suckin' on it. Ain't never tasted anythin' so refreshin'.

Don's folded his arms across his chest, clearly waitin' for me to say somethin'. Manage to get myself stood up near enough straight, and with enough air in my lungs to be able to speak a coherent sentence, after a final hacking cough.

"Is everyone out and safe?" Lookin' about me, I can see a few groups of townsfolk standin' around gazin' in dismay at the saloon. Few of them have got buckets in their hands, standin' closer to it; seems the scale of the fire and how far it's taken hold is makin' their attempts at extinguishin' it more or less hopeless...

Don nods, sorta' brusquely, in answer to my question. "Yeah, we're all out, everyone accounted for. Surprisingly few injuries. Doc's got a lump on his forehead after bein' hit by a bottle, Hammerback's got a few scrapes which he seems kinda' proud of, and a few more folks are walkin' wounded, but that's it." He shakes his head. "Could've been a lot worse, heck of a lot worse... I'm mighty thankful there weren't no fatalities." He finishes up by givin' me and Stella a pointed look.

"Don, I'll be... be apologisin' to you when we get all this sorted out. Before that, I need you to take... take charge of a few things, if that ain't an unreasonable request."

Sighin' heavily, he shrugs. "It ain't. That's what a Deputy's for, huh? As well as tryin' his best to make sure the Sheriff don't get himself killed near enough on a daily basis, along with the town's Saloon Owner..." Pausin', he bends down and puts a hand on Stella's shoulder. "Stell, talk to me. You all right?"

"Fine... I'm... fine," she coughs, lookin' up at him. "But the saloon ain't."

The sorrow in her voice near enough breaks my heart as her eyes are drawn to her home, and Don catches my eye, a troubled expression on his face. I know we're thinkin' the same thing as Stella turns back to me, confusion in her face now. "Why we wastin' time? Why's everyone standin' around? We oughtta be tryin' to put the fire out..."

Pushin' me aside, she scrambles to her feet and almost topples over. Don and I catch hold of her arms to steady her even as she tries to shake us off.

After glancin' at me again, a fair amount of guilt in his features, Don speaks to her real gently, "Stell, we've been tryin', honest; I had a chain of folks back there with buckets, scoopin' up snow and throwin' it on the flames, but you can see how fast the fire's spread, how much damage has been done."

Eyes wide, starin' at him, she shakes her head in denial. "No... no, there's gotta be somethin' we can do..." She turns to me next. "Mac, tell him; there's still a chance."

Though it hurts me to admit it, I know Don's right; even if we could manage to put the fire out now, there's too much damage been done, wouldn't be nothin' but half a buildin' left at best. Takin' hold of her shoulders, I look straight into her eyes, the hurt in them, real hard to see. "I wish I could tell you somethin' different, Stella," I say, my voice rough, "But you saw how bad it was inside; how much has been destroyed already. I wish there was somethin' more we could do, you don't know how much I wish that, but... but there ain't. I'm sorry."

"No," she whispers, backin' outta my grasp and twistin' round to stare at the saloon again. "No..."

Don clears his throat, his face showin' a whole mix of feelings as his hand rubs across his jaw. "Reckon the best thing you can do is get yourselves indoors and rested."

Expectin' an argument from Stella at that, I'm surprised, and kinda' uneasy when she don't say anythin'; just keeps her gaze fixed on the saloon.

"Reckon you might be right," I tell my deputy, exchangin' another look with him when Stella still don't say a word. She's frozen in place now, her hands clasped in front of her, just starin'. Reckon now she's got safe out here, the truth of the situation's hittin' her, now she's seein' the state of the saloon from the outside. Makes me even more resolved that she ain't stayin' here. Especially if it's to see her home, the place she loves and has lived in for more than half her life, burn down to the ground. 'Cause it's clear it's gonna take more than a miracle to save the Star Saloon. And that hurts me almost as much as it's gonna hurt her. 'Cause it's somethin' of hers, somethin' dear to her. She ain't got no family, no family by blood at least, but she's made this place her home; worked hard for it, built it up to be the finest saloon in the whole state to my reckonin'. I can't bear to see it destroyed, and I can't bear for her to see that either. I gotta look away from it, my eyes burnin'.

"Nothin' more you need to do out here," Don continues, his eyes dartin' to Stella and back to me again. Best thing _you_ can do is get yourself cleaned up and rested." He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks contrite. "Apologies for cussin' at you just then. Weren't a gentlemanly thing to do, guess I was a little upset..."

Though she responds at last, Stella still don't turn round and she's soundin' kinda' dazed as she answers, "Don't care... don't need to rest..." As she breaks off to cough again, I slip my arm round her waist; which don't provoke no reaction from her. She just stands there, starin' as the flames consume more and more of her home. The folks who were standin' near to the saloon have moved back, discardin' their buckets, acceptin' the inevitable.

Don stands with his arms folded across his chest, givin' Stella a considerin' look. "Get yourselves over to the Hammerbacks'," he says finally, turnin' his gaze back to me. "They've gone back to their place to receive any folks in need of a little lookin' after. Go get the smoke outta your chests. Smoke ain't somethin' to be taken lightly... same as ridin' through blizzards and fallin down holes ain't," he continues, with a wry look.

"Took the words right outta my mouth..." I say.

A quick grin quirks his lips. Stella don't react; and the grin fades from Don's face as he looks at her and then at me.

I remove my arm from round her gingerly, ready to stop her if she decides she's gonna run towards the saloon, and ready to catch her if she collapses. There ain't no movement from her though as I adjust my coat round her shoulders. "We'll head over to the Hammerbacks', Stella. You know Don's a man to be trusted to take care of things."

"You know it," the man himself affirms. "Got everythin' under control; all the gang safely locked away, bunch of miserable cowards the lot of 'em, and the Doc's seein' to the sorry sonofabitch you two dragged outta the Saloon. Course, if I'd had my way," he adds with a grunt. "I'd've left him in there..."

"What's done is done," I ain't gonna get in any arguments about that now. "Reckon you can manage out here?" Know full well he can; reckon it's a courtesy to ask that though.

"Sure," he nods. "The Doc and me will come check on you soon as we can."

Then he takes Stella's hand, askin' hesitantly, "Stell, you gonna be all right?"

She don't seem to hear him; she ain't drawn her eyes away from the saloon. And it's a sight to break your heart. The old wooden buildin' that's been at the heart of Hattanville for as long as the town's existed is almost consumed by fire. Sound of crashes and what's gotta be bottles of liquor detonating is all too clear. Despite the sterling efforts of folks, the inferno ain't gettin' any less. If this really is the end of the Star Saloon, then the heart's gonna be torn right outta Hattanville. Gonna be torn right out of Stella and all, 'cause she's put her heart into that place. It ain't just a saloon; it's a place folks go for sharin' stories, company and friendship; for heartsease. It's her home, and a second home for the town that's become her family. It's a place where I not only found my heart again, but where I was content to give it away; to the woman standin' beside me. 'Cause I know there's no safer place for it to be than with Stella.

But as I look at her now, all I can see is her heart bein' demolished, and that's somethin' I gotta stop. Her heart and soul and being are more precious to me than anythin'.

"Stella," I say softly. "Let's get movin'. Mrs Hammerback's gone almost a whole day without lookin' after either one of us..."

My attempt at humour falls down dead. She turns to me, but her face is bereft of any emotion.

"Got no place else to go, have I?" she says tonelessly. It scares me. This ain't like her, and Don and I give each other a worried look. Defeat ain't something I thought I'd ever associate with Stella, she don't let anythin' defeat her; now though... Fair kills me to admit it, but I ain't able to describe the look in her eyes as anythin' _but_ defeat.

"Then that's where we're goin'," I tell her, firmly as I can.

"Take care of each other." Don claps me on the shoulder, gives Stella's hand a final squeeze, which drops back to her side soon as he lets go, and then he strides off towards the crowd. In seconds he's shoutin' out orders, and order's being created. Leaves me able to focus solely on what's most important to me. Stella.

"We're gonna take it real steady. Ain't far to the Hammerbacks'," I slip my arm round her waist again to guide her away from the Saloon, except now she only offers a passive sorta' resistance and don't move her feet. "Reckon both of us have pushed ourselves to our limits, wouldn't you say?"

Can feel her startin' to shiver as she stares blankly at me; her skin's white beneath the smudges of smoke, and her eyes are huge, ringed by shadows.

"Guess you could let me help you out, huh? Just this once?" I try, pullin' her gently in the direction of the Hammerbacks' and this time she manages a response.

"Guess so."

It's still that same flat voice, but at least she takes a step away from the burnin' wreck of the Saloon, and we start to make a haltin' sorta' progress down Main Street, which is made more difficult 'cause Stella don't stop lookin' back over her shoulder.

Without any care for being thought improper, I keep my arm round her, holdin' her as close to me as possible. Can't help but notice how slender she is. Makes the strength and determination she got all the greater. Lookin' at her now though, it's plain she's used up nearly every last bit of it. Each step seems to take more and more effort, and we're gettin' nowhere fast. Weren't far off the truth when I talked about reachin' my limits; after all, it weren't so long ago I was gettin' up outta my sick bed... They ain't quite reached yet, so I'm gonna keep goin'.

"Almost there," I tell her after a few minutes, tryin' to encourage her. "Few more yards."

Still lookin' back at the scene behind us, Stella stumbles and almost falls so I decide to stop for a moment's rest; for both of us. Her whole body's tremblin' now and her breathing's comin' in gasps, so I turn her head towards me, gently as I can, hopin' I can offer her a few words of comfort. "Stella..."

"It's... it's gonna be burned, Mac," she whispers. "Everythin'. All my possessions, my home. Burned to _nothin'_..."

Sorrow wells up in me at the pain in those few words and the reality that's hittin' her. "But _you're_ still here," I tell her, catchin' hold of her hand. "I count that more important than _anythin'_."

Shakin' her head, she presses her lips together and a tear slides from the corner of her eye. As I brush it away, my fingers leave a streak across her face, so I pull my handkerchief outta my shirt pocket, bend down, and moisten it in the snow.

"This is gonna feel cold..."

Bein' as tender as I can, I wipe away the smudges from her face; and she just stands there shakin'. Makes me realise it ain't gonna take much for her to lose the battle to keep herself together. Soon as I'm done, I stuff the handkerchief away and wrap my coat more closely round her. Suddenly seems to be way too big for her, and I'm dismayed to see it ain't doin' a thing to stop her shiverin'. So I draw her close to me and get us movin' on.

"Too cold to stand still. We can rest soon as we get inside," I brush some hair outta her face, and I'm relieved when she gives a small nod.

We manage a few more falterin' steps, when frightened shouts and further commotion arises behind us.

Whirling round, clutchin' hold of one another, we can only watch in horror as part of the Saloon roof collapses and comes crashing down. It smashes into the middle of the buildin' and flames shoot into the air with a noise that sounds like some terrible roar of victory. Stella, wrenchin' herself outta my grasp with a wail of agony that cuts me to the bone, runs forward before stoppin' dead. Then she staggers back as if she's been struck again, and I catch her round her waist with both arms.

"It's all right, Stella... It's all right..."

"It ain't all right!" she flares up, her eyes blazin'. "Everyone's given up! There's gotta be somethin' left we can do!" Her reaction startles me; thought she'd started to accept what was happenin', that she weren't gonna be able to save the saloon; but then, acceptin' the loss of your home ain't somethin' straightforward; ain't always possible even.

She twists round and tries to break free, her hands shovin' against my chest, but I hold onto her; tryin' to reason with her in a near impossible situation. "Stella, everyone did what they could, there ain't nothin' left we can do; you _know_ there ain't... I'm sorry, it ain't possible to save it now."

Her eyes are wild with anguish as she tries to tear herself outta my arms, galvanised into life again by the near certain death of her home. "No! I gotta try _somethin'!_"

"You've done everythin' you can! You did what was more important earlier," I tell her urgently, holdin' onto her as gently as I can. "You got folks outta there, and saved their lives. If you hadn't been the woman you are, swift-thinkin' and with more strength in you than anyone else I know, then we'd have lost nearly half the town. You've done everything you need to and more!" They're words spoken with as much force as I can muster.

"_No!_" she shouts, pulling forward again against my hold. "It's my home! Let me _go!_"

She tries to prise my arms away, but I hold on tight as I can without hurtin' her. "You ain't in any state to do anythin'; there ain't anythin' you _can_ do now..."

"There _has_ to be!" she cries, and lunges forward, almost fallin' doubled over my arm. Keep it firmly round her middle though, and pull her back a few steps. "Stella, it's too late, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Sounds kinda' inadequate, sorry; even though there don't seem to be anythin' else to say right now...

She ain't listenin' anyway, and after one last struggle she breaks away, from me with a desperate cry. But the effort seems to take the last of her spirit and she manages only a few steps before fallin' to her knees in the snow, slumped in utter defeat.

**I'd love to know what you think :) Please review and let me know. Thanks, Lily x**


	26. Broken Star

**Disclaimer:**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author: **** Lily Moonlight**

**Notes****: Thank you very much for reviews, please continue! They're a great help and I love knowing what you think. Thanks very much to **_**Ballettmaus**_** for her help, and for keeping me in touch with reality :D Thanks also to **_**cmaddict, Brinchen86, sarramaks **_**and**_** Blue Shadowdancer**_** who read an early draft of this. As previously, there will be a short extra scene for all reviewers. Thanks to everyone who sent comments on last chapter's :) I did, by the way, write the majority of this chapter, including the ending, in September ;)**

Once Upon A Time In The Old West

Chapter 26: Broken Star

Mac:

I reach Stella in a flash, take hold of her and try and lift her to her feet, all the time repeatin' her name and that everything's gonna be all right. Tryin' to convince myself of that as much as her. Manage to get her standin', but then she sorta sinks in my arms. Seems like her last spark of defiance has burned away, 'cause I reckon the destruction of the saloon has taken her spirit right along with it. I'm holdin' her up best I can, but fear and exhaustion are gettin' a grip of me, startin' to drain my strength. Feel sick with worry; somehow, I gotta get her indoors and get help.

"Stella, come on, you only got a few more yards to go." I urge her, turnin' her round in my arms so she's facin' me. Her face is blank, dead white; her eyes are lookin' at me but they ain't seein' me. Never seen her like this, never, and I realise with a jolt, that I'm afraid for her. Want her to shout or scream or cry... Heck, even if she'd fainted, I'd know better what to do, but this... this has got me beat. This ain't somethin' I know how to deal with. I gotta do _somethin'_ though, and the sooner the better. All I can think to do is hold her, just hold her. With one arm round her back, and the other round her head, I draw her to my chest, holdin' onto her. Her arms hang limply at her sides even as mine are locked round her, and the fear inside me grows. Can't hear a sound from her other than the rapid beatin' of her heart and her breathin' comin' fast and shallow. Her breath's soft against my neck as I murmur what I hope are comfortin' words into her ear, tellin' her she's all right, that it's all gonna be fine. Wish I could make that true for her right now. Truth is, I ain't certain at all about that; she ain't all right by any stretch of the imagination.

Even as I'm thinkin' that, I'm aware of my strength disappearin' fast and my leg, though I've been tryin' to ignore it, achin' in a way that I ain't gonna be able to ignore for much longer. Still holdin' Stella to me, I take a step backwards, twistin' my head to see how much further we gotta go to the Hammerbacks' front door. Ain't too far; reckon I can keep goin' that much further anyhow. Movin' myself about, so I'm at Stella's side, I put my arm round her and try and place her arm round my waist. I'm havin' to hold it there, however, 'cause she ain't makin' any effort to. Least she keeps on walkin'. Costin' me a fair bit of pain in my leg to keep puttin' one foot in front of the other I gotta say; limpin' kinda' heavily now and each step feels like a stab through my muscles. But it ain't far...

"Stella, I'm gonna have to rest for a moment," I say, graspin' hold of the rail at the end of the Hammerbacks' porch soon as I'm near enough to. Don't provoke no comment from her. Soon as I let go of her she stands motionless, starin' at nothin', the flames that are devourin' the saloon lightin' up the night sky behind her. For a moment though, I gotta concentrate on myself and draw in a few deep breaths, tryin' to stop the sensation of everythin' whirlin' round me. Last thing I want is to go passin' out. Focusin' on breathin' for a few moments seems to help, and despite my legs feelin' like lead, I put my arm round Stella's waist again and take another step. Soon as I do that, one of the best sounds I've heard in a long time strikes my ears; footsteps hurryin' along the boardwalk towards us and the voices of the Hammerbacks.

"Mr Taylor!" Mrs Hammerback exclaims in dismay as she reaches us. "Miss Stella! Oh my poor loves!"

Her husband takes in the situation immediately. "Miss Stella?" he says gently, touchin' her shoulder. I feel a spark of relief when she raises her head a fraction at his voice, but she still don't say a word, and after studyin' her for a moment, Hammerback looks at me seriously.

"I suggest, however we can manage it, that the best thing we can do is bring her to our house, so we can look after her there."

"That was what I was intent on doin'," I say, hearin' my voice soundin' as rough as sandstone.

He glances over his shoulder at the still burnin' remains of the saloon, and then gives me an appraisin' look. "It seems you've been through quite the ordeal, both of you."

Mrs Hammerback places a plump arm round Stella's waist after she's glanced at the wreck of the saloon, and turned away from it with sorrow cut into her face. "We'll look after the _both_ of you, it's no trouble at all, is it, Sidney?"

"Most certainly not, my dear," he says, and then turns back to me, peerin' over the top of his spectacles. "These weather conditions are _not_ the sort to be out in for longer than absolutely necessary. May I suggest we offer you some assistance to get inside?"

"We can walk," I rasp, lettin' go of the rail and refusin' to believe I'm swayin'. Feel fairly certain I can walk and I know Stella ain't gonna want to be carried.

Hammerback gives me a sceptical sorta' look as he takes hold of my arm. "It won't do either of you any harm to have a helping hand."

"Soon have you safe indoors, my love," Mrs Hammerback gives Stella's cheek a caress with the back of her hand, but she don't give any indication she felt it. She's still starin' unseeingly, and as I catch the concerned look the Hammerbacks give each other, it makes the unease in me grow.

The walk of a few yards to their house seems to take days. Mrs Hammerback leads the way with a firm arm around Stella's waist, while I gotta admit, I'm grateful for the arm Hammerback's placed round my shoulders. Despite lookin' as if she's gonna crumble to the ground at any moment, Stella manages to stay on her feet. Reckon, if I'm honest, that it wouldn't take much for my legs to give way.

Mrs Hammerback pushes the front door open and guides Stella through, and Hammerback and I follow close behind, after I take a moment to catch my breath and lean against the doorframe.

Once inside, we're greeted with a fire in the hearth and candles set round the front parlour. Sight of them flames, however small, makes me wince. It provokes a sudden intake of breath from Stella, and she stops and stands stock-still soon as we get in there.

Mrs Hammerback enfolds her in an embrace though, and in a voice as soft as fallin' snow tells her that she's no need to worry, that everything's safe and that it's fire that ain't gonna cause no harm. Feelin' at this point too exhausted to speak, I just let my hand drift up and down her arm hopin' Mrs Hammerback's words are gonna sink in. Takes a little time, but then she allows us to lead her forward, still without sayin' a word.

We get her sittin' on the couch and I sit down next to her, thankful to have the weight taken off my leg. Can't recall feelin' this weary ever before. We're near enough to the fire to get the warmth of it, but far enough away from it so Stella ain't caused any more distress. Soon as we're settled, the Hammerbacks leave us – Hammerback, after bringin' us a glass of water each, to check on the situation outside and let Don and Hawkes know how we are, and his wife to fetch us somethin' to eat. Suddenly feel real awkward, and unsure of what to do. Instinct tells me to put my arms around Stella, but at the moment, she looks even too fragile for that; I'm afraid of breakin' her. Feel responsible somehow, 'cause I wasn't able to save the Saloon and prevent her from havin' to see her home destroyed. Guilt's a crushin' thing to feel, but I gotta ignore that; gotta focus on her. And I know that there weren't nothin' I could do, there ain't no good reason for me feelin' guilty. Just wish there'd been some way I could've prevented all this, stopped her havin' to suffer everythin' she has.

Movin' as close to her as I can so our shoulders are touchin', I try again to speak to her.

"Stella?" When she don't respond, I shift myself round, ignorin' the twinge of my damaged ribs, so I'm sittin' sideways to her. "Guess I can't imagine what you're feelin' right now, but..."

She turns then, finally; turns her head round to face me and when I see the look in her eyes, my voice dies stone dead. It's a look I ain't capable of describin'; desolation ain't the half of it. It brings a rush of feelings through me, near overwhelmin', and I clutch hold of her hand to try and anchor both of us. Can feel her fingers are icy cold - guess she lost the gloves she had on this mornin' somewhere along the way - so I start chafin' them, attemptin' to get some warmth in them. She looks down at what I'm doin' before her gaze turns away again to a point in the distance. All the shine and jewel of her eyes has dulled; saw no life when I looked in them. Feels like a blow to my chest. Gotten used over the years to Stella's emotions, gotten to love them too; her anger, the passions she can fly into, all the thrill and joy that bubbles up in her when something's pleased her. So to see her like this, seemin' like all the life and emotion's been ripped out of her in one fell swoop... Damn, that's a devastatin' thing to behold.

Can't bear sittin' here doin' nothin', watchin' her like that, so I take up one of the glasses of water. Bein' in all that smoke and heat ain't done either of us no good; my throat's feelin' desert dry and sorta' scorched on the inside and the thought of ice cold water inside it's a temptin' one indeed. Seems it ain't so temptin' to Stella though as when I offer her the glass she don't make no effort to take it.

"Stella, you gotta take a sip at least," I tell her, puttin' the glass close to her hand. "You need to drink somethin'." My words don't make no difference to her. Her gaze remains in the distance and her hands stay where they are, lyin' in her lap. After makin' a few more futile pleas for her to drink, I decide I'm gonna take a sip myself. Maybe that'll go some way to encouragin' her to do the same. Only intend to take a few sips but before I know it, the glass is empty. Sure felt good, feel a whole sight better after that.

As I'm settin' the glass down, Mrs Hammerback returns, her skirts rustlin' round her. She's got a couple of blankets over her arm and's carryin' a tray holdin' two bowls of what's gotta be steamin' hot stew, spoons and two mugs of rich smellin' coffee. Her face falls a little at the sight of Stella, but she don't lose the determined set of her mouth.

"Dear me my loves, this won't do. This won't do at all. Let's get both of you warmed up and comfortable."

After strugglin' to my feet at her entrance, I reach for the tray and she shakes her head, givin' me a warm smile. "You're a true gentleman, my love, but you've no need to stand up for me and I've got the tray balanced nicely." Then she gives me somethin' of a stern look. "Sit yourself back down and rest your leg. Don't think I haven't noticed how that's paining you." Waitin' till I've sat down, she bends, with a slight creakin' of joints, and sets the tray on the table beside the couch. Soon as she's got her hands free, she wraps one of the blankets round my shoulders. Feel kinda' self-conscious about any sorta' fuss bein' made of me, but I ain't wantin' to offend her by protestin'. After gettin' it arranged to her satisfaction, she shakes out the second blanket which releases a waft of roses and lavender. "This is just the thing for keeping you warm and cosy, Miss Stella, my sweetheart," she says, drapin' it over her knees and tuckin' it round her. "Just the thing you need. Now how about that coat you're wearing? We'll be best taking it off, as it'll be soaked through and no good for getting you warm. Don't want you taking a chill, now do we?"

Her voice is patient and kindly and all her actions gentle. She starts easin' the coat off Stella's shoulders, with Stella makin' no move to help or hinder. Still tryin' to gather my strength, I'm aware I ain't doin' much helpin' myself, though hopefully I ain't hinderin'... truth is, I'm feelin' helpless, and that ain't a feelin' I'm used to. The shock of everythin' seems to have stolen Stella away, and a ghost of a woman's been left in her place. The fact I still don't seem able to reach her, either through words or touch is causin' me worse pain than anythin'.

But I know that doin' nothin' probably ain't gonna help much at all, and I ain't gonna have got this far only to abandon Stella. Reckon Mrs Hammerback realises that as after gettin' the coat off of Stella's shoulders, she pauses, and with a glance at me, steps back.

"Maybe Miss Stella would prefer you to do this, if you're able to," she says with an encouragin' smile. I ain't so sure about Stella preferrin' me; nevertheless, I guess it ain't gonna hurt to try. So assurin' Mrs Hammerback I'm able to, I start takin' Stella's arms out of my coat, all the while tellin' her that I hope she ain't mindin' what I'm doin'. She don't say anythin' to confirm or deny it, her gaze stays where it is; somewhere that ain't here. After I've got my coat removed from her, Mrs Hammerback takes it from me and hangs it over the back of a chair, shakin' her head at how damp with snow it is. Realise at that point, that whatever Stella stuffed in the pocket is still in there. Gonna have to leave it there for now; I ain't gonna go pryin'.

Feelin' kinda' unsure about what's gonna be good for her, I fluff some cushions up behind her. Don't gain any sorta' reaction though. Mrs Hammerback's excused herself to the kitchen to fill up the empty glass of water, so after hesitatin' for a moment, I reach for the tray. Maybe gettin' some food down Stella is gonna help. Know for a fact she ain't eaten a bite since first thing this mornin'. Can always try encouragin' her to drink somethin' again after that. Takin' up one of the bowls of stew from off the tray and bein' a little more insistent, I place it along with a spoon in her hands. "If you ain't wantin' to drink anythin' yet, maybe you can eat a few mouthfuls of this," I say, hopin' I can persuade her.

Mrs Hammerback returns and looks on approvingly. "Get some of that down you as Mr Taylor suggests, my lovely. Do you the power of good it will, and warm you right through."

Both of us wait for a moment to see if Stella's gonna do anythin'. But she just sits there, starin' into space, as steam drifts up from the bowl.

"Just have a little," I urge. "Just a spoonful."

Mrs Hammerback pulls up a stool and sits in front of her, claspin' her hands around her knees. "Won't you taste just _one_ spoonful for us, my lovely?"

Response we get is the same as before. Nothin'. We stay in the same position for several minutes, till it becomes clear, even after a whole host of encouragin' words from both Mrs Hammerback and me, that Stella ain't gonna touch a mouthful of food.

Sighin' deeply, Mrs Hammerback takes the bowl and spoon from her. "Maybe you'd best have a few mouthfuls yourself, Mr Taylor along with some coffee. Can't see good victuals going to waste, and maybe if Miss Stella sees you trying some, she'll be more willing to herself."

I'm sorta' hesitant to eat and drink any more when Stella ain't doin' so; don't seem right somehow. However, reckon Mrs Hammerback's speakin' sense. She passes me the bowl and spoon and the rich fragrance of meat, vegetables and gravy makes my mouth water. Few moments later and I'm scrapin' out the last spoonful. Darn it, but that was good stew. There ain't a soul in town that can surpass Mrs Hammerback for cookin'. Makes me realise just how hungry I was; can't in fact recall when Ilast ate somethin'; guess it was at breakfast this mornin' with Stella. Wipe my mouth once I've finished and give my compliments to the good lady who made the stew, who beams in return.

"Does my heart good to see a man enjoying his food like that, my love! Now then, take one of those mugs of coffee for yourself else they'll be getting cold."

Take a few sips and feel a little more life returnin' to me. Nothin' like coffee and hot food to revive a body.

Obviously with the same thought in mind, Mrs Hammerback's holdin' the other mug of coffee out to Stella, waitin' to see if she'll take it, but she don't. So, feelin' I oughtta try somethin' else to help, I set my own mug down on the floor. Takin' the other one from Mrs Hammerback, I bend Stella's fingers as gently as I can round it and start tryin' to reason with her again. "Stella, take a sip, please. You ain't eaten or drunk a thing for hours, and you need to. You're gonna do yourself no good if you don't get somethin' inside you."

Don't get no reaction whatsoever, even as I put my hand round hers and lift the mug closer to her mouth. Finally, startin' to despair, I place the rim against her lips. They're pressed together though and I ain't gonna be able, or willin', to force her to drink.

Still gotta have one more try at least. "All you gotta do is take one sip, it ain't askin' much, and you're gonna feel a whole lot better if you at least drink somethin'. If you ain't wantin' any water, least have a sip of coffee, please, Stella..."

Then Mrs Hammerback's hand touches my arm. "Mr Taylor, if I may be so bold, perhaps if we leave Miss Stella alone for a little time? Might do more harm than good keeping on at her."

I hesitate, knowin' she's a woman of sound advice, but still I want to help and gettin' Stella to eat and drink has gotta be a start; least thing I can do till she's willin' and ready to talk to me.

But I know Mrs Hammerback's right; Stella at least ain't lost her stubbornness and if she don't _want_ to eat or drink, then she ain't _gonna_. So, a little reluctantly, I take the mug away and keep it between my own hands, recallin' words said not so long ago about victuals not bein' wasted, and knowin' that coffee's somethin' I'm in need of.

Mrs Hammerback heaves herself to her feet, sighin' heavily as she rests a comfortin' hand on Stella's shoulder.

"You've had a bad time, my love, and it's not surprising you're feeling like you can't speak or do anything else. But you need to know that we're all here around you, none of us are going to leave you on your own, and unless I'm very much mistaken, Mr Taylor here's not going to be leaving your side."

She knows as well as I do, that fact ain't in _any_ doubt, but I answer it so Stella knows it loud and clear.

"I ain't goin' anywhere."

Mrs Hammerback nods. "You're a gentleman with a good heart, Mr Taylor. A good and true heart. I know this is hard for you, seeing Miss Stella like this, knowing how much she means to you." Her hand's on my arm again, givin' me a little comfort.

All this time, Stella ain't given any kinda response, not a sign she's taken in anythin' we've been sayin', and it makes my heart heavier than lead. Got a weight of worry and sadness layin' on me that ain't gonna be lifted till I know Stella's all right. My head sinks onto my chest then, feels almost too heavy to hold up. Next thing I know, I got a warm palm restin' on my cheek and Mrs Hammerback's voice speakin' softly to me.

"Don't you fret, my love. My guess is she's suffering a shock after everything that's happened these last few days. She's in the safest place she can be here, with people who love her taking care of her. If she gets a good night's sleep, she'll be feeling more like herself tomorrow, and no doubt ready to eat and drink a little something. Have faith that between your words and my cooking we'll be able to tempt her with something by the morning."

All I can manage is a weak sorta' smile, but she pats my arm and nods approvingly. "Now then, here's what I suggest. I'll fetch another few blankets to get Miss Stella comfortable on the couch here, and fix you up a pillow and a blanket for sleeping in front of the fire. I know I can trust you to be a gentleman." Her eyes glint at me, and not for the first time, it strikes me that Mrs Hammerback is a woman of the world.

Without another word she hurries out of the room. I take a few more sips of coffee, and a little hesitantly, reach across and lay my hand over Stella's. Still feels cold, way too cold for my likin', so I start kinda' rubbin' my thumb over the back of it. Can't take my eyes from her, searchin' her face for any kinda' response. But all that happens is her gaze drops to the floor and her head lowers. Regardless, I keep my hand where it is, lettin' her know I'm there.

Mrs Hammerback soon returns, givin' us a look of warmest sympathy. More blankets and pillows are heaped in her arms, so I get to my feet, wincin' a little at the pain that shoots through my leg but managin' to hide it, and take them from her. She smiles her thanks and we pick out a patchwork knit blanket which she tells me she made herself, and decide that's gonna be the best one for Stella.

That big old couch we've been sittin' on is a comfortable one; stuffed generously with horsehair and long enough for even Don Flack to lay out on without his feet hangin' over the edge, so it's gonna be the best place for her to sleep. Mrs Hammerback and me get a couple of pillows arranged at one end without Stella so much as liftin' her head to notice what we're doin'. Soon as that's done, we tell her we're gonna get her settled so she can sleep. Gentle as we can, we unbutton her boots and take them off before movin' her round and liftin' her legs up onto the couch. Get her arranged so she's as comfortable as possible, lyin' on her back with her head restin' on the pillows. We don't meet with any resistance; she just submits to bein' moved and that scares me all over again. Mrs Hammerback seems to take it in her stride as she fusses over the state of Stella's dress, mutterin' to herself that it's near enough ruined with smoke and dirt and burns before she lays the blankets over and makes sure they're coverin' her. When she's done that, she kneels down beside Stella and gazes tenderly at her, strokin' her hair before she kisses her forehead.

After risin' to her feet she gets me a pillow and a blanket fixed up by the fire and tells me, with a knowin' twinkle in her eye, not to be awake all night.

"I expect my Sidney will be in soon, but he can creep through places quiet as a mouse so he won't disturb you," she says as she blows out all but two candles. "I'll just fetch some plain bread and butter; nothing fancy, but just the thing if Miss Stella decides she's hungry in a little while."

With a smile she pats my arm before hurryin' through to the kitchen. It only takes her a few minutes to reappear with a plate heaped with delicate slices of bread and butter. "Make sure you get some sleep, Mr Taylor," she says, handin' the plate to me. "You need it as much as anyone, despite what you might think. Even though I know you're not a man for sleeping much, take heed of a wise woman's words, and give it a try at least. Miss Stella will be all right. Now goodnight my love and sleep as well as you can."

She turns to leave, not before givin' Stella another kiss on the forehead and a murmured 'goodnight'. I watch her out of the room until the last swish of her skirt has disappeared through the door.

Immediately my eyes are drawn back to the figure on the couch, the firelight castin' flickerin' shadows over her face.

Crouchin' down once I've put the plate on the table, I adjust the blanket over her. Lettin' my fingertips graze her temple, I say the only words I can think of. "Stella, I'm sorry..." Know I'm repeatin' myself, but there don't seem to be anythin' else to say.

Soon as those words are outta my mouth, she finally looks at me and holds my gaze. Feel a spark of hope which is extinguished a moment later when she shifts onto her side and turns her back to me. My fingers hover over her, but my mouth's run dry of anythin' to say, so I try layin' my hand on her shoulder. Sends a pang into my heart when she shrugs me off and curls round into herself, tuckin' her knees up and pressin' her face into the pillow. Gotta confess, it takes me aback a little; guess though she just ain't ready to accept any comfort from me. I gotta be patient, give her time to recover herself.

Withdraw my hand; however, I ain't able to move away from her. Pull the blanket a little further up and make sure it's tucked round her enough for warmth. Last thing she needs is to catch cold. Feel real unsure of myself now; don't know what else to do but sorta stand there, just watchin' her whilst the fire crackles in the hearth and the grandfather clock in the corner of the room ticks weightily.

Come to the realisation though that, in her present state of mind, bein' watched might be upsettin', so sighin' a little heavily, I take myself over to the fire and sit on the blanket. Sittin' there, listenin' to the sound of her breathin' calms some of my fears. She's alive, she's safe... just gotta try and assure myself that though it might take time, she's gonna be all right, she's gonna get through this. And I'm gonna do whatever I can to help her.

Hammerback comes in a little while later, lets me know in an undertone that the remains of the saloon are still smoulderin', but the worst of the fire's out. Also lets me know everyone's safe in their houses, that Don might look in shortly and that Hawkes is gonna come check on us in the mornin', before he whispers a goodnight to Stella and myself and retires to bed.

Not much longer after that I hear Stella's breathin' start to slow and even out. I'm thankful to see when I get up from my place by the fire and tiptoe over that her eyes have closed and she's asleep. Can't resist just restin' my hand on the top of her head; guess I got a hope she might feel some comfort from it. Truth is, there ain't much more I can do for the time bein' except keep a vigil while she's sleepin'.

Got time to ponder as I'm sittin' in the glow of the fire, and I come to a conclusion that burns itself into my heart. More than I reckon she knows, Stella takes care of me; takes much of my care away from me too. And so, though I may not have spoken any vows out loud yet, I'm vowin' now that I'm gonna take care of her for the rest of our lives.

**Many thanks for reading, please let me know what you think with a review :) I'm a little nervous about this chapter. Lily x**


	27. The Wounded and the Living

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author**** Lily Moonlight**

**I'm really sorry to have left such a long gap between updates, again... Many thanks to _Ballettmaus_ for her help with this, to _cmaddict _for discussion a little while ago about Flack, to_ iluvcsi4ever _for reading this and to those who have given pokes to update - much appreciated. I must admit, after the news about season 7, I lost my enthusiasm for the show; however, not for the characters or fan fic. If you're interested, I have a few links on my profile page re. this. Thank you to _conche_ and _webDLfan_ for your messages.  
**

**Dedicated to _afrozenheart412_, _DNAisUnique_ and _brinchen86_  
**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 27: The Wounded and the Living

Flack:

Ain't never seen such a mess as this. It ain't hardly credible; to see the Star Saloon nothin' more than a heap of smoulderin' timbers in the snow, well, devastatin' ain't the word to describe it. And devastated ain't gonna be the word to describe Stell when she sees this. She was in a bad enough state earlier. Shouldn't be a sight anyone has to face, seein' their home burned down in front of their eyes, and for no reason other than a gang of outlaws decided they wanted somethin' they weren't entitled to. Makes me sick.

Least the fire's out now... mainly 'cause there's nothin' left to burn. A few hours ago this was one of the most important buildings in town. And now... Well, now, there ain't much left of it but memories. After all that turmoil, there's a strange sorta' silence settled over the place now. Aint much to be heard apart from a sorta' hissin' sound from the remains of the saloon. And 'cause the light from the flames has gone, feels like night's sorta' closed in on the town.

I gotta sit down before my legs give way. Can't be seen to be collapsin' in the snow. No one's takin' much notice of me though; everyone's startin' to trail back home. Aint a whole lot more anyone else can do now except get themselves back in front of their hearths safe and warm. Best thing for 'em. Whole town's gonna need time to recover from everythin' that's happened today.

Guess I'd like nothin' better than to fall into my own bed and sleep for a week, but that ain't gonna happen. Ain't gonna see my bed for a while. Got folks to check up on yet. Mac ain't in no state for doin' that tonight. Besides, Stell needs him more than anyone else right now.  
Can't draw my eyes or mind away from the saloon though. It's nothin' less than a miracle we all got out alive, especially Stell and Mac. I was certain that this time, their time had come... For a few minutes when we were all held hostage, I thought _my_ time had come. Guess someone up there was watchin' over all of us Hattanville folks makin' sure not a one of us was badly hurt. Seems like the only one seriously injured was the sonofabitch who caused all this in the first place. Man didn't look good when I dragged him over to the Doc after Mac and Stell pulled him out.

Doc's got real skill in treatin' even the most hopeless seemin' cases, but I don't reckon even he's gonna be able to do much to help in this case. Well, maybe that ain't such a bad thing; but then there's also a part of me thinkin' that maybe death's too good for such as him. When I think of what he did... _Damn_ the man! Ain't ashamed to admit, as I told Mac and Stell, that I'd have happily left him to burn. Would've felt like justice.

However, I don't reckon I'm far wrong in guessin' that it ain't gonna be down to anyone on earth to be judgin' him soon. Unless I'm real mistaken, he's gonna have a different judge lookin' at his blackened soul before too much time's passed...

"Mr Flack?" Hammerback's voice interrupts my thoughts, which I ain't ungrateful for. Scramble to my feet and realise I was gettin' kinda stiff sittin' on the steps of the Sheriff's Office.

"Hammerback. What's happenin'?" I ask, dustin' down my breeches before shovin' my hands in my pockets.

Kinda' self-consciously, he touches the scrape he's got on his forehead. "Doctor Hawkes and I have just finished a brief conference and I wondered if there was any assistance I can offer you out here?" Lookin' a little apologetic he adds. "That is not to suggest, of course, that you are incapable of managing things." He looks around him, takin' in the sight of the near enough empty street.

I shrug. "Don't reckon there's anythin' else you can do. Baines sure ain't in any state to be causin' any more trouble and his gang are all locked up. Most folks are back in their houses. All I gotta do now is go see a few folks then head home myself. Got Messer stayin' with me and I want to make sure he's all right."

Hammerback looks grave. "Of course. The poor man. Nothing less than a tragedy for him; a tragedy averted, indeed, but averted at a most terrible cost. I fear that he is and will be deeply affected by this. He may appear to be a brash young gentleman on the surface, but he has a rather fragile interior he keeps hidden away."

Gotta say, for a man who spends most of his time with the dead, there ain't many who've got more insight into the livin' than he has. I maybe wouldn't have used exactly the words he did, or as many, but he's described Messer pretty much dead on - pretends he don't care about much at all, but that ain't the truth. Fact is, Messer cares a lot. Cares too much sometimes and that's what gets him into trouble. He was one of the first whose safety I made sure of after we were all outta the saloon; made sure Mr West took him over to my place and got him settled there. After I tell Hammerback all that he looks approvin'.

Asks me next about Miss Monroe, and I'm able to put his mind at rest when I tell him she's stayin' with Miss Jessica and her parents tonight. Watched Miss Jessica escortin' her over to their place, just after she asked me to make sure I say goodnight to her when I'm all finished up. That I don't tell Hammerback; man's too fond of askin' questions sometimes about things he don't need to know about.

Though thinkin' of questions, there's still an important one to be asked. "You got Mac and Stell safe at your place, right? How they doin'?"

Hammerback nods and his gaze darts away for a moment. "Indeed we have. My dear Martha is taking care of them both as we speak."

That don't entirely answer what I was askin' him. Somethin' tells me there's somethin' he ain't tellin' me. So I ask him again and if I ain't much mistaken, he looks sorta' hesitant, before replyin' that they're as well as can be expected, which prompts another question.

"Has Martha managed to persuade them both to get some sleep?" Mild and gentle she may appear to be, but there's a thread of steel runnin' through Martha Hammerback. Reckon even Mac and Stella might have met their match with her. And in the case of gettin' them to rest, well, miracles happen sometimes...

Hammerback clears his throat, lookin' at me over the top of his spectacles as he answers. "They're not asleep, at least they weren't when I left, but they're in good hands with Martha, safe from any more harm."

Any _more_ harm? What in heck's he talkin' about? Surely between here and the Hammerbacks' front door they couldn't have found themselves in any more trouble... Could they? Geez, if my hair ain't grey by the mornin', that'll be a miracle and all.

"What are you holdin' back, Hammerback?" I demand, harsher than I meant to as I realise the man looks tired all of a sudden and I can see the injury he's taken ain't doin' him much good. Seems he's in need of bein' in Martha's capable hands too. "What's happened with them?" I ask in a softer voice.

Hammerback sighs before admittin' that him and Martha found Mac on the verge of collapse same as Stell. Tells me the ordeal of seein' her home fall down in front of her eyes proved too much...

"What do you mean? She saw it? Saw the roof fall in?" Damn. That was the last thing I wanted to hear. Hoped Mac might have gotten her away before that happened. For her to have seen that... Oh man.

Hammerback pushes his spectacles up his nose, shufflin' his feet a little in the trodden-down snow as he tells me that as far as he can judge, she's in a state of shock; not respondin' to anyone or anythin'.

Shakin' my head at that, I've gotta ask him how Mac is as well. He sure weren't the picture of health and if Stell's in the kinda' state Hammerback's describin', then it's gonna be takin' a toll on him and all. With Mac and Stell, if you cut one of them, the other bleeds. Simple as that. Knowin' Mac, I can see the kinda' difficulty there's gonna be with him. He ain't gonna rest till he knows Stell's all right. Reckon the man thinks he can keep goin' sometimes on nothin' but fresh air and stubbornness. Tends to forget he's human and needs to rest now and again.

Lookin' weary, Hammerback confirms exactly what I thought.

Still, at least I know the two of 'em are alive and conscious, which is more than we've been able to say about them on other occasions. The bein' conscious part anyhow. Though I still affirm it's nothin' less than a miracle that both of 'em are alive today after some of the adventures they've been through.

However. That ain't important right now. Hammerback's lookin' at me kinda' expectantly, so I clap him on the shoulder, tell him I'm grateful for everythin' he's done and that I'll call in and see for myself later how the Sheriff and Saloon Owner are. Man seems happy enough with that and he heads in the direction of his home, leavin' me to sit back down on the steps for another moment. Know I really ain't got time for sittin'; there's still a few more hours of the day to go and I got a lot to take in. Guess all I really want to do is strike this day off the calendar and wake up to a new dawn tomorrow.

Reckon the best thing I can do is make my rounds, then go make the best of the remains of the day and wish Miss Jessica a good night.

I'm thinkin' of her as I'm headin' over to the Doc's and it gives a lift to my footsteps. Thankful don't begin to describe how I feel about her bein' safe and unharmed. Could all have turned out differently today, real differently... and that just don't bear thinkin' about. Still, I gotta acknowledge that I ain't never felt terror like I felt earlier, all the time we were tied up and I knew that I was helpless to do anythin' to protect her. Only comfort I had was knowin Miss Jessica was safe with her Ma and Pa. Even though it should rightly have been me keepin' her safe, protectin' her.

Thinkin' about protectin' the lady I care about brings to mind all of a sudden the memory of Mac's attempt to protect Stell when Baines tried to grab her. Ain't never seen him like that before. Never seen him show that kinda' hatred and fury. Man. Reckon if he'd have had all his strength, Baines wouldn't have stood a chance. And I reckon if it had been down to Mac alone, that sonofabitch would be nothin' more now than a heap of cinders amongst the remains of the Saloon. Sure would have been happy about that myself. Guess Stell's got too much of a heart 'cause I'm pretty sure she was the one persuadin' Mac to drag him out, rightly or wrongly, I don't know...

Anyways, I'm gonna hurry my steps along to the Doc's place. I'd gotten chilled sittin' down and I know he's gonna have a fire blazin'. Likely he'll have some food to hand and all. Mrs Wildman ain't quite the cook Martha is, but I ain't gonna be refusin' any of her cake or cookies. Ain't had a bite of food since breakfast and my stomach's startin' to protest. Loudly.

Only takes me a moment more to reach the Doc's house. Guess he must've seen me comin' as the front door opens before I even reach it.

"Come on in, Don." He draws me in over the threshold. "Mrs Wildman's just brewed some coffee as it seems likely to be a long night. Care for a cup and a bite to eat?"

Well, as I tell him, it ain't often I refuse an offer like that, especially knowin' that his coffee is usually served up with cookies of some kind. Reckon the Doc's got almost as sweet a tooth as I have.

He's soon got me sittin' in front of the fire and we're facin' each other both comfortable in the two worn old armchairs he's got placed in exactly the right spot for warmth. The heat's soakin' into me nicely as Mrs Wildman hurries in with a tray of coffee and cookies which I help myself to.

"Can only spare you a few minutes," the Doc warns me as he lifts his cup and blows across the surface of its contents. "My patient isn't likely to last the night. Not a lot I can do for him except make him comfortable and give him something to reduce the pain he's in, but I don't like to abandon a dying man."

"Even such a man as he is?" Words are out before I can stop them. I ain't ashamed of sayin' 'em though. Know that I ain't gonna be the only one questionin' the humanity of Baines. Guess I find it hard to understand the Doc's thinkin' on some things, especially knowin' he was threatened and all by the man responsible for so much destruction and pain. So he's in pain himself now. Well, maybe he's only gettin' a fraction of what he deserves.

The Doc says nothin', only sighs, places his cup in its saucer and turns it round and round, his eyes cast downwards. Finally he looks up and speaks. "I know how you feel, Don, but... I took an oath when I became a doctor and if I refused to treat him, I'd be breaking that oath and that I'm not prepared to do. I'm not giving him any special kind of treatment. Like I said, there's nothing I can do to save him. I'm just offering him the humanity he hasn't got in his last hours. At the very least," he continues, meetin' my gaze, his face lit by the flames in the fireplace, "we're showing him we're better than him. We're not the kind to let a man die in cold blood. Even if he is." There's a shadow that falls across his face as he leans back in his chair and sips at his coffee.

There's nothin' I can say to that. Maybe I agree with him, maybe I don't. The Doc don't press me to say anythin' though, which I'm thankful for, and for a few minutes we sit there drinkin' our coffee, eatin' and starin' into the fire in silence. Both of us thinkin' our own thoughts.

Soon as he's drained his cup and brushed the crumbs from his waistcoat, the Doc's outta' his chair and apologisin' to me, which I tell him there's no need for.

"You gotta do what you gotta do," I shrug. "Just... give us any news when you have it and make sure you get some sleep yourself. You ain't had much in the way of rest yourself the last few days." Raise my eyebrows at him and he simply gives me a wry smile.

"I'm not the only one," is his only comment as he walks me to the front door. "Tell Taylor I'll check on him and Stella in the morning unless they need me before then. I'll come check on Danny again too; I bandaged his feet earlier and treated them as best I could."

I nod. "Sure thing. Thanks. Messer's safe with me for the night, I'll keep a close eye. Guess there ain't much more you can do for his physical needs for the time bein', but it's gonna take some time for his mind to recover."

"He'll get there," The Doc assures me, givin' me a penetratin' look, guessin' some of the worries on my mind. "Same as we all will. With each other's help."

That gives me some comfort, and it's with a lighter heart I step down off the boardwalk and make my way over to the Hammerbacks'. Can see the remains of the saloon outta the corner of my eye, but I don't turn and look.

Their house is real quiet as I approach. Aint no light from the upstairs rooms and only a faint sorta' glow from the downstairs. Guess like many folks, they've retired to their beds but I don't reckon sleep's gonna come straight away for any of us tonight. Just in case though, I give a real soft knock on the front door. Don't get no answer at first, so I wander along to the window and peer in. Mac's visible, sittin' by the fire, starin' into it, and judgin' by the mop of curly hair I can just about make out, Stell's lyin' on the couch with her back to the room, and him. Well, one of em's awake for sure so it ain't gonna do no harm if I tap real gently on the window.

That catches Mac's attention and after lookin' up and seein' me he gets himself off of the floor and makes his way to the door. Favourin' his right leg, that ain't difficult to see. Moment or two later, he's ushered me into the house, with a finger to his lips.

"Stella's asleep and the rest of the household are upstairs," he says quietly, guidin' me over to a chair a little way from the fireplace. Room's real dark, ain't no light except from the fire. Casts all kinda' shadows about the place and over him, can see all the hollows in his face...

"So why ain't you sleepin'?" I can't help myself askin'. He just sorta' stares at me. Geez. From the look he's givin' me, you'd think I'd just asked him why he ain't drinkin' poison. Ain't nothin' wrong with an honest few hours of sleep. Does a man good.

"You know, Mac, you really should give sleepin' a try sometime," I whisper, tryin' to keep my face as serious as I can.

The look of scorn on his face increases as he eases himself down in the chair opposite me. "I'll sleep when I need to," he says in a real gravelly voice. "What can I do for you? Everythin' all right in town?"

I fix him with what I hope's an impressive sorta' stare. "Everything's fine. Nothin' for you to worry about. Matter of fact, I came to see how you and Stella were and reassure you that the town's all safe indoors and likely in their beds. Where _you_ oughtta be," I can't help makin' the point again.

Mac ain't impressed. All he does is nod slowly. "Hammerback said you were gonna call by, appreciate it. Glad to hear all that." There's a pause as he shifts his leg, wincin' a little. "Thanks for all you've done to help," he adds, sendin' a quick glance over to the couch where Stell's lyin' huddled under a blanket. Ain't been a sound or a move from her. Guess if she's sleepin' it's a good thing...

Answerin' Mac though, I shrug. "Like I said earlier, it's a Deputy's duty."

He nods, but his attention ain't on me. There's a frown crossin' his face as his eyes wander over to Stell again. "How's she doin'?" I ask.

A heavy sigh's all the answer I get from him at first, before he turns to me again and his face is troubled. "Never seen her so... so lost," he admits in a low voice. "Since she saw the Saloon collapse, she ain't said a word, ain't shed a tear... nothin'."

That last word kinda' drops outta his mouth like a ball of lead.

"Least she's sleepin'," I offer him my thoughts from a moment ago and he nods absently. Don't know what else I can usefully say at this point. Find both of us turnin' our gazes to the woman on the couch. She looks suddenly kinda' small all curled up like she is under a large and heavy lookin' blanket. More fragile than I've ever seen her. I know she's strong though; strong enough to recover from even such a blow as this. Least, I hope she is...

In the silence, after I've caught sight of a plate of bread and butter by the couch and decide that it ain't really the time to ask leave to take a slice or two, there's the sound of an ember droppin' and a small spurt of flame from the fire. Mac tenses in an instant, his eyes dartin' over to it and to Stell. She stirs, shiftin' onto her back and mutterin' somethin' I ain't able to make out. In a few steps, movin' fast despite his leg, Mac's at her side, kneelin' down and murmurin' a few words to her as he rearranges the blanket over her. Whatever he says, and I'm too far away to hear, seems it has the desired effect and she settles again. After watchin' her warily for a few more moments, Mac exhales and stands up. With more than a wince this time for his leg.

I decide now's a good time to be leavin' them, and maybe leavin' Mac to sleep. But not before I've given him a few words of advice. Gettin' up, after whisperin' to him that I'm gonna go check on Messer, I beckon him over to the door.

"One more thing before I go, Mac," I plunge in before I can change my mind and fix him with a serious look as this is somethin' I've had on my mind for a while. "What's it gonna take for you and Stell to get things sorted officially between you, huh? Last few days you've survived a blizzard, bein' trapped, fire, not to mention all the other life-threatenin' incidents you two have faced in the past couple of years such as snake bites, shootings, fallin' off horses... you know, there ain't much left to befall you both, except..." Stop myself just in time; I ain't gonna tempt fate by suggestin' any more trouble they could get themselves into. "Anyhow, what..."

"What's your point, Don?" Mac interrupts me kinda' harshly. However, I ain't gonna be diverted. Someone's gotta tell him what most of the rest of us are thinkin'. And if he'd have just let me speak a moment longer, I'd have got to my point.

Glarin' at him and foldin' my arms, I press on despite feelin' kinda' outta my depth and uncomfortable talkin' about this sorta' thing. "You know darn well what my point is. You and Stell, you're two stubborn people; two people who... who guard your hearts real carefully and who don't find openin' yourself up to feelings easy, but 'cause I'm a friend to both of you, I'm gonna speak my mind: you're in danger of leavin' things too late. Don't lose the chance you both got for happiness."

There's silence soon as I finish speakin'; even the fire seems to have grown ears and is waitin' for what's gonna be said next.

The expression on Mac's face ain't readable. Maybe I've gone and stepped over the lines of the friendship we got, but I sure don't regret sayin' what I did. Besides, what's said is said and I reckon someone needed to say somethin'. And if it weren't me, well, I don't know who else was gonna do it.

When Mac still ain't responded after a few real long moments, I shake my head and step out the front door and onto the porch. "Think about what I've said and please, get some sleep..."

His hand on my arm stops me. "We ain't left it too late," he says gruffly. "I'm gonna make sure of that."

I hold his gaze for a second, judgin' the look in his eyes. Ain't nothin' but the truth there. "Make sure you do." I say.

Without a word, he releases my arm and I head down the steps, turnin' as soon as I reach the street to call out quietly. "Goodnight, Mac. Sleep well."

They're my partin' words, but whether he hears them or not, I ain't sure 'cause the front door is already closin'.

Still, after speakin' to him, I feel kinda' reassured, about him and Stell at least. When Mac says he's gonna do somethin', he does it. All I want for the two of them is for them to be happy. After the tragedies we've faced today, the whole town needs some happiness, those two maybe most of all. Messer and Lindsay got each other and have taken the step of actually gettin' themselves engaged; Mac and Stell though... like I just told Mac, they don't find it easy to admit they need the support of anyone, even each other. But I've done what I can. Rest is down to them.

Most pressin' right now to me is the call I promised to make on Miss Jessica. If I don't get myself over to her place real soon, she's gonna start worryin'.

I gotta walk past the remains of the Saloon to reach her house; smell of smoke's real strong and kinda' bitter in the air, and the mess of timbers and ash left behind is a sorry sight, a real sorry sight. I reckon we ain't gonna lose the smell of smoke from round town for some time. Gonna take time for it to cool down too, still a real powerful heat comin' from it.

Find myself hurryin' to get past it, but as I'm doin' that I come to the realisation that we've lived through a real dark day today, and the fact we _did_ live through it means we got lighter days ahead of us...

"Don!"

I've reached the boardwalk of Miss Jessica's house already and no less a person than Miss Jessica herself is waitin' for me in the doorway, a shawl wrapped round her, a lantern in her hand and a welcomin' smile on her face.

Givin' me a quick warnin' look as she comes to the top of the steps, she gestures up at the house. "Everyone's upstairs now after we had a bite to eat together; Miss Monroe was asleep almost before we got her into bed. Ma and Pa think I'm fast asleep and dreamin' too, but I slipped downstairs soon as I heard them go up to their bedroom and I've been waitin' by the window for you. Came outside soon as I saw you."

"Hope you ain't gotten cold standin' there," I whisper, placin' my hands on the rail along the porch. She smiles and her warm hand touches my cheek.

"I ain't cold, see?" she replies. "Though I guess it ain't a good idea for us to be standin' outside too long."

"I guess it ain't," I answer, though both of us ain't in a hurry to move.

Still smilin' at me, she leans forward a little more. "I'm glad you're all right," she murmurs and due to the fact that she's standin' on the porch and I'm still on the street, she's gained a few inches of height over me. Meanin' she's able to bend down a little and place a kiss on the top of my head.

Guess it startles both of us a little and she steps back, her cheeks flushin' in the lantern light. "I'm sorry, I..." she starts, but wantin' to save her from any more embarrassment, I put my foot up onto the boardwalk, step up there and return the kiss.

Just a touch of our lips together and I guess it only lasts a few seconds, but it lifts away all the cares from my mind. Whatever the future is, I got a feelin' the two of us are gonna be facin' it together.

I pull back slowly and find Miss Jessica lookin' at me with a shy sorta' smile at the corners of her mouth and sparkles in her eyes.

"We should both get some sleep," she says softly and I realise she's holdin' my hand. "Tomorrow's gonna be a busy day."

"Sure is." I set my shoulders, feelin' all the stronger, keepin' hold of her gaze. "There's a whole lot ahead of us."

She looks at me, kinda' studyin' me and I know she understands what I'm thinkin' as she nods.

There's a sound comes from upstairs and Miss Jessica looks anxious, so I decide it's time to take my leave. With a hurried goodnight, our hands separate and she disappears indoors. I stand watchin' a little longer, even after the front door shuts. Partin' from her ain't so sweet, but I know I'll be seein' her in the mornin'. As I start makin' my way home, I can't resist stoppin' and lookin' round once more, just in time to see a flicker of candlelight in her room.

Save for a few wisps of smoke, the street's deserted and Miss Jessica's too far away to hear, but I whisper a goodnight anyway before turnin' my footsteps homewards.

**Thanks for reading; reviews very welcome and replied to as usual with an extra scene :) Lily x**


	28. Sorrow at Dawn

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author**** Lily Moonlight**

**I'm getting a bit quicker with updates! Many thanks to _Ballettmaus_ for her help with this, to _afrozenheart412 _for her extra thoughts on the chapter and the extra scenes, similarly to _cmaddict_ and _DNAisUnique_ and thanks to those who have given me pokes to update - much appreciated.**

**Thanks also to _Jovi_ for your review - if you'd like the extra scene, please send me a PM :)  
**

**Dedicated to _Blue Shadowdancer_** **with thanks :D****  
**

Once Upon A Time In the Old West

Chapter 28: Sorrow at Dawn

Mac:

After closin' the door as quiet as I can, though it was kinda' hard to resist the urge to slam it, I'm left with my own thoughts. Fair to say, Don's left me with some things to think about.

Part of me sure was upset with him for sayin' what he did... maybe more than upset; annoyed in fact. I don't take kindly to folks pryin' into my affairs, even if it's such a person as my Deputy. Could be said that he spoke about things that ain't none of his business, things that are private between me and Stella. When he said what he did, I was real mad at first, thinkin' what right did he have to go sayin what he did?

Could be argued that he didn't have no right at all... but, if I'm bein' honest, there was a lot of truth in what he said, which left me feelin' kinda torn between wantin' to be real annoyed with him and real respectin' of him. And in the end, I wasn't able to stay annoyed with him.

Couldn't argue with him neither about losin' chances; the sorta chance for happiness me and Stella have got don't come to people often. Would be wrong to waste it or to lose it for no good reason other than we were stubborn, and maybe just a little bit afraid of our feelings. Don kinda' had a point too in talkin' about what it's gonna take before we sort things out between us. Can't be many folks that have lived through the sort of adventures me and Stella have, almost losin' our lives and each other several times in the last few years.

Guess I admire my Deputy for speakin' out the way he did, though he sure took a liberty in doin' so. I know myself well enough to admit I ain't the easiest person to approach. It ain't escaped my notice how some folks go kinda' timid when they gotta speak to me. Of course, that ain't ever been the case with Stella - don't think she even knows the meanin' of the word timid.

Don sure ain't a timid person neither, but I guess it took a fair amount of courage for him to say what he did. And I know he did it with the best of intentions.

Though he maybe don't realise it, bein' a modest sorta' man, Don's a real sound judge of character. Able to get folks weighed up and judged real quick and usually he's pretty much dead on accurate. He's a real good Deputy for a Sheriff to have, and though it ain't somethin' men speak about much, I've come to realise more and more in recent times he's someone I also value as a true friend. Since I've known him, he's done more than his duty many a time and done more than he needed to for me and Stella.

But standin' here thinkin' ain't gonna do much good, nor get much done. Clearly ain't gonna do my leg much good neither. Best thing for now is to go back in front of the fire, warm myself back up again and make sure Stella's still sleepin' and warm enough. The front door bein' open let a draught blow into the room and I don't want it havin' given her a chill. The flames in the fireplace have calmed back down, but they're still castin' all kinds of shadows on the walls. Sure ain't a sight I'm enjoyin' lookin' at, seein' them dancin' about; reminds me too much of the saloon. Even so, the sight of them's almost mesmerisin', watchin' the shapes they create, the way the light and the glow draws your eyes.

Watchin' the way the flames in the fireplace eat away at the coal and logs gets me thinkin' more and more about what happened. Feels almost impossible to look away and I find my memory slippin' back to a few hours ago, rememberin' the way the heat in the saloon near enough scorched my eyeballs. The flames in there got too close to us, way too close. And if I'd been just a minute or two slower findin' Stella... Reckon there's somethin' in Don's remark after he dragged us away from the saloon, about our escape bein' down to luck and guardian angels. Ain't many other explanations for how we got out alive. Maybe though the fact that me and Stella _did_ get outta that saloon alive, against the odds, is another hint to us - we've been given another chance and we gotta make the most of it.

When she's ready to listen to me, that's how I'm gonna explain it to her. Entirely up to her what she decides, as long as she knows how I feel and what I want. All I want is that she's happy, and if she's happy bein' with me (which I don't reckon there's much doubt about) then there ain't any more happiness I need in life.

Reckon we've been in danger of relyin' too much on assumptions and on things we ain't said. When I told Don I was gonna make sure me and Stella ain't left it too late, I weren't speakin' nothin' but the truth. Guess what he said made me real clear in my mind about what I'd decided before he called in – to be speakin' things out loud and makin' vows, sooner rather than later.

Feel my leg givin' me a reminder about how it ain't happy with me standin' on it for all this time, so I ease myself back down where I was sittin' earlier. Gotta admit, though I wouldn't admit it to Don, a few hours sleep would likely do me good. Starin' at that fire sure makes your eyelids feel heavy...

Faint sound of movement from the couch lifts my eyelids right back up again and brings me wide awake in a second. Asleep Stella may be, but it sure ain't a peaceful sleep. She's shifted again, turnin' onto her right side which has left the blanket all kinda' bunched up round her. That ain't gonna be comfortable for her.

Gettin' to my feet ain't quite as much of a struggle as I thought it might be and I'm at her side in a few moments. Got a feelin' this ain't gonna be an easy night for her, likely not for me neither. But if it takes me stayin' awake all night to make sure she's all right, then so be it. There are worse things a man could suffer than the loss of a few hours sleep.

Manage to get the blanket straightened out and coverin' Stella again without wakin' her. Stay crouched at her side, just watchin' her for a moment, wonderin' how much good this sleep is doin' her. Her face ain't peaceful; there's distress in her features even with her eyes closed and her hands are kinda' clenched. I'm hopin' she manages some rest at least and that by the time she wakes up she's gonna be restored to herself in some measure. The way she's locked herself away, that ain't gonna do her no good in the long run. More you keep somethin' hidden away the more difficult it gets to deal with.

I know Stella ain't the kind to hide a problem away, or hide from it. Not for long anyhow. Guess what I really want is to be the one helpin' her solve any problems she's got, or preventin' them in the first place. I wasn't able to do that today, couldn't stop her home bein' destroyed, but if she'll let me, I want to help her dealin' with what she's gotta face. Whichever way I can.

Realise that I've been runnin' my fingers up and down her arm while I've been thinkin'. Funny how an action you weren't even aware of feels kinda' natural though. Maybe I'm takin' some reassurance in it myself, that she's there and real and alive under my fingertips. Sure hope she might take some comfort from it too.

Realisin' my leg ain't gonna hold out much longer with me crouchin' like this I drag over a small stool with a tapestry seat to rest on. Once I'm sittin' down, I'm able to concentrate a little more easily on my thoughts, and I find them returnin' to what Don spoke about.

Whatever else I think about him sayin' what he did, he sure weren't wrong when he called me and Stella two stubborn people. I ain't too proud, or stubborn, to admit that. Bein stubborn ain't all bad neither. Kept me, and Stella, goin' through some tough times; got us where we are today in fact. But if it's a thing that stops us from bein' happy, and is _keepin'_ us where we are today, which ain't quite together yet, then we gotta do somethin' about it. We're close, real close, but there's still some way to go...

A sudden cracklin' and spittin' from the fire startles me out of my musings. One of the lumps of wood in there's burned down almost to its core and the remains have split in two. I turn immediately to Stella: the sound of it must have reached into her sleep and dreams because she stirs; starts sorta' twistin' about, even while she ain't awake. That look of distress is still lyin' on her features, which I ain't likin' to see, so I do my best to erase it by placin' my hand on her shoulder real gently and assurin' her she's all right.

But it seems to have the opposite effect and instead of assurin' her, it agitates her further. Still with her eyes closed, she pushes my hand away, mutterin' somethin' that sounds like 'let me go' and it's clear she's gettin' more distressed.

Only thing that seems right to do is take hold of her hand, just kinda' stroke the back of it with my thumb, keep on tellin' her she's all right, that there's nothin' she needs to be frightened of.

After a moment, she calms and stills, her face relaxin' a little. I've kept hold of one of her hands while the other's lyin' beside her face, uncurled from the fist it was in. All movement apart from the rise and fall of her breathin' is stopped and she looks like she's slipped into a deeper sleep. Let a sigh of relief pass my lips and feel my muscles loosen. Take the opportunity to study her face, as it's a sight I love, and that ain't somethin' I'm gonna hesitate to admit. Though maybe it's easier to admit it to myself alone in the small hours of the night than any other time. Her face has got real beauty in it; maybe unconventional beauty, but it's beauty all the same. Beauty that sometimes near enough steals my breath, especially when she smiles...

As I'm gazin' at Stella, it hits me again that this ain't how it should be. It shouldn't be this way at all; only gettin' to be at her side like this when hurt and disaster's befallen us, when her face is showin' the marks of all she's been through today. I want to be with her, at her side, watchin' her sleepin' in happy times too, times when we've said goodnight to each other at the end of a day full of joy, spent together; knowin' we got that night and the next day and all the days we got allotted to us to be spent together.

Seems we've spent too many hours at each other's side in unhappy circumstances; I've kept a vigil at her bedside more than once and she's done the same for me too. Sure, I know that's a part of carin' for each other and somethin' I wouldn't hesitate to do again if Stella needed me to, but the fact is, we ain't spent enough happy times together yet. And we're in danger of takin' each other's presence for granted, lettin' those happy times slip past us while we're delayin'...

The time for those thoughts soon runs out, because the peacefulness of her sleep don't last long. A poppin' sound comes from the fire along with a waft of smoke. Fear reappears in Stella's face and her hand pulls away from mine. Though she's still asleep, her mind ain't restin'. When I try takin' hold of her hand again, she snatches it away from me, almost like she's fightin' to break free from somethin', or someone. Then her hand flies out, catchin' me on the chin as she's mutterin' 'no, no' over and over, turnin' from side to side, her hands pushin' against somethin' invisible, tryin' to fight it off.

Tryin' to clasp her hands ain't the best move I make as she lashes out, scratchin' my arm with her fingernails. But I gotta do somethin' to try and wake her; bein' trapped in a nightmare as she seems to be ain't gonna do her no good at all.

"Stella, come on, it's me, it's Mac. You're safe, I ain't gonna hurt you..."

My words don't have no effect. All I can think is that she's dreamin' she's in the clutches of that bastard Baines again as her voice rises and becomes more insistent in her denial. Even asleep her physical strength ain't any less – I'm sittin' next to her now on the edge of the couch, holdin' her arms, tryin' to calm her fear, but she's battlin' against me almost as fiercely as she was when I tried to stop her runnin' back to the saloon. The only thing that's gonna help now is wakin' her, gettin' her free from the nightmare she's havin'.

Shakin' her real gently, I call out to her in a low voice, "Stella, wake up, come on, you're with me, you're safe. Wake up!"

She pulls in a sharp breath as her eyes blink open at last and grow wide with horror as she struggles to sit upright.

"Get off me!" she gasps, tryin' to wriggle away from me. "You ain't never gonna get me! _Never, _you hear me!"

Jerkin' in my grasp, tryin' to tear out of my arms, her breathing's ragged and her chest is heavin' as her fists are ready to strike me. But after I've uttered her name again and that it's me, finally she seems to recognise me. Wild-eyed still, her gaze fixed on me, she freezes; even her breath's held and as quick as I can I wrap my hands round hers, feelin' how cold they are, repeatin' that she's all right, she's safe, Baines ain't got her, she ain't trapped in the saloon...

Soon as I say that, the last glowin' embers of the log in the fireplace crumble and fall through the grate raisin' a shower of sparks. It draws both our eyes to the fire and tears a tremblin' cry from her lips; her hands pull free from mine and fly to her mouth and she shakes her head. In an instant I know she remembers and realisin' that the storm's about to erupt I wrap my arms round her and pull her against me.

"My home..." is all she manages to choke out before the tears overtake her and she breaks down and sobs into my shoulder.

Ain't got no idea how long we're there; Stella's in a state of grief I've never seen her in before, wrapped in my arms with me holdin' her, tryin' to give her what comfort I can. Ain't nothin' really can be said that's gonna help so I just keep my arms round her. Maybe the very fact she's allowin' herself to cry is gonna be the best help of all.

My face is pressed into her hair and the smell of smoke lingerin' in it's a stark reminder of the reason for her tears. Runnin' my hand up and down her back, tryin' to bring some calm to her, I'm struck again with the knowledge of how close we both were to dyin' in that fire. Makes me hold onto her even tighter.

Real gradually, the sobs shakin' her start lessenin' until she begins to recover herself. Finally, they cease, but she stays still, no doubt exhausted, her head lyin' on my shoulder and her arms round my neck. My hand moves up to her hair, my fingers combin' through the tangled curls gentle as I can while I speak real softly to her, askin' after a few minutes if she's feelin' any better.

Drawin' in a shudderin' breath, she lifts her head and wipes her eyes, noddin' that she's all right. Ain't got no handkerchiefs left to offer her, but I gotta do somethin' to help the fact her eyes are all red and swollen and her face is streaked with tears. After makin' sure she's all right for me to do so, I loosen my hold on her, helpin' her sit back against the pillows and get to my feet with the intention of fetchin' a cool, damp cloth from the kitchen. Soon as I stand up though and tell her what I'm doin', she catches hold of my hand, askin' me not be long with a real anxious look in her eyes. Pausin' for a moment I weigh up the situation, before decidin' that I'll go but be real quick. Suitin' my actions to my words, I limp through to the kitchen fast as I can.

Don't take me long to locate a clean cloth which I soak and wring out. Returnin' with it, I find Stella sittin' with her knees drawn up to her chest, her hands clasped round them, starin' out of the window into the darkness, her breath still hitchin' a little.

"You oughtta have somethin' to drink and eat," I say softly, not wantin' to startle her as I approach.

She turns and gives me a weak sorta' smile. "Don't... don't know if I could manage anythin'..." Hesitatin' for a moment, she considers before admittin', "Though I guess a sip of water might be good."

Easin' myself down next to her again, I let my hand rest over hers. "Martha left a glass of water and there's a few slices of bread and butter she prepared for you and all." Dabbin' gently at her face with the cloth, bein' mindful of the bruise that's formin' on her cheek, gives me a flash of memory from a few hours ago when we were standin' in the snow. Stella sighs and there's a quiver in it, rememberin' the moment too maybe, so I attempt to divert her. "You're lucky the food's still here and untouched. Don called round earlier and had his eyes on it."

The corners of her mouth lift. "He don't miss an opportunity for gettin' somethin' to eat, does he?" A thoughtful look crosses her face. "So he _was_ here earlier? I remember hearin' voices, yours and his, kinda' in the middle of the dreams I was havin', wasn't sure if it was real or not..." Her expression shadows and her voice grows fainter. "I was tryin' to wake up, I know I was, but they... they wouldn't let me go, the dreams."

I clasp her hand tighter at the fear she's shown me a glimpse of and I put the cloth down on the table before brushin' my fingertip down her jaw. "They were only dreams," I say, "dreams that ain't able to hurt you. You're safe and outta harm's way."

Her eyes search mine and I can see the fear in them ain't gone yet. Underneath mine, her hand's clutchin' the edge of the blanket. "I was... I was dreamin' you were hurt as well," she whispers. "That Baines had hurt you... killed you..."

"I ain't hurt, Stella." I caress the back of her hand with my thumb, addin' when she looks at me kinda' sceptically and reaches up to touch my face, "Least, not much. And I definitely ain't killed. I'm safe and fine and here with you."

It draws a faint smile from her and for a moment we simply sit there, our gazes joined, reassurin' ourselves of each other's well-bein'.

When she asks me after a moment about Baines, I tell her all I know, which is that it ain't seemin' likely he's gonna be hurtin' anyone again. She don't say nothin' to that, just holds onto my hand a little tighter.

Practicalities though are in my mind too and recallin' the water and the bread and butter, I reach across to the small table that Martha left them on and pull it over.

While I'm doin' that, Stella looks around her, with somethin' of a puzzled expression on her face. "What are we doin' at the Hammerbacks'?" she asks as I pass her the glass of water. "When did we get here?"

I tell her, makin' sure the glass ain't gonna slip out of her hands which are still kinda' tremblin'.

She frowns as she says she don't remember and as gently as I can, I answer that it was likely because of the state she was in, "Don't reckon you were takin' in anythin' that was happenin'."

Liftin' the glass to her lips she takes several gulps from it, all the while her eyes are lookin' at me over the rim. "Don't recollect much after... after seein' the roof fall in." She sets the glass down with a shaky sigh. "I'm sorry..."

"You ain't got no reason to be sayin' sorry." I speak real firmly and as a way of endin' that part of the conversation, I hold out the plate of bread and butter. "Here, you oughtta eat a couple of slices at least. If you don't, Martha's gonna be offended."

I get another small smile in return for the one I've given her as she takes a slice and nibbles at it, alternatin' between that and sippin' at the water. I'm real thankful for that, that she's gettin' some food and drink down her at last.

"You gonna have some, Mac?" she asks as soon as she's finished the bread, the first sign of her usual self appearin' as a glint in her eye. "You look like you could use some feedin' up yourself."

"Reckon I could manage a slice or two," I grin. "As long as you have another one too."

"Sounds like a deal to me," she says and it's a fair sight indeed to see the beginnings of a proper smile back in her face. "Guess I _am_ kinda' hungry."

I'm real pleased to see her eat two more slices and accept another glass of water when I fetch us both one from the kitchen. All this movin' around ain't pleasin' my leg, but I ignore its protests. Makin' sure of Stella's health is more important. Between us we clear the plate, which is no doubt gonna be a happy sight for Martha's eyes in the mornin'.

After finishin' eatin', I lean back, feelin', it's gotta be said, a whole sight better. Both of us are sittin' on the couch; me with my legs stretched out in front of me, feelin' the warmth from the fire on one side and Stella with her legs tucked under her, pressed into my side with my arm round her and her head on my shoulder. She's got the blanket wrapped round her too, somethin' I made sure of. Warm as the room is, her dress ain't made of thick material. One hand's holdin' mine while the other worries at the skirt of her dress and the scorch marks on it. Ain't been no words spoken between us for some minutes, but we've moved a little closer, each of us silent with our own thoughts. Mine thankin' God that Stella didn't suffer any more damage than a singed dress, 'cause it wouldn't have taken much for it to have gone up in flames takin' her with it. But it didn't and that's what matters, that's what I gotta focus on...

My eyes are half-closin' in the stillness when Stella sits upright and her fingers curl round my hand.

"Where's your coat?" she asks urgently, the grip on my hand tightenin'. "The one I was wearin', the one you put round me in the saloon. Where is it?"

Another memory flashes back to me; an image of the two of us in the saloon, and Stella stuffing the thing she'd had clutched to her chest into the pocket of my coat. I reassure her quickly that the coat's perfectly safe and point it out to her, dryin' over the back of a chair by the fire.

She breathes a sigh of relief, her eyes closin' for a second before they flash open and her gaze meets mine.

Decidin' the moment's right to be askin', I turn my hand so our palms are meetin' and my fingers are clasped round her wrist. "What did you go back for, Stella? What was so important you went runnin' back into the saloon with it burnin' down around you?" I ask her in a real soft voice, not wantin' it to sound like I'm reproachin' her.

She don't answer me at first. Instead, her gaze lowers to our hands. Much as I'm keen to know, I ain't gonna force her to tell me, it's gotta be her decision, which is what I say to her. That gains me another small smile before her eyes turn away from me again and her fingers fiddle restlessly with her dress.

But after a brief silence accompanied by the hissin' and murmurin' of the fire in the hearth, she squeezes my hand and makes a move to get up off of the couch. I try and get up faster, but my leg lets me down and don't allow me to. Pattin' my thigh gently, Stella, givin' me another glimpse of her usual self, sends me a stern look and tells me to stay where I am, that she ain't sick and she can manage to pick a coat up off a chair. Even if my leg weren't twingin' the way it is, I'd have to concede to her, so still with the blanket wrapped round her she fetches the coat and brings it back to the couch.

Once she's settled back next to me, she drapes it over our knees and slips her hand into the pocket; a small, sad kinda' smile flickers across her face as she draws out a crumpled lookin' item, the sight of which, I gotta admit, leaves me shocked. That really ain't what I was expectin' to see; the deeds for the saloon maybe, certainly not what she's got in her hands.

Holdin' it carefully, turnin' it this way and that, somethin' of a watery laugh breaks from her. "Guess you're wonderin' why I went back for this, huh?"

"You could say that," I answer, as I study the smoke-streaked but still smilin' rag doll, unable to keep the surprise out of my face and voice.

Stella looks at me, half-embarrassed. "You don't see why I risked my life to rescue a doll."

"No, I don't entirely see why," I admit, still strugglin' to understand her possible motives. "It's a doll... but - but I'm guessin' it ain't _just_ a doll to you and that's maybe why."

A tremblin' sigh is all the answer I get while she lays the doll on her lap and smooths its dress and wild woolen curls, her eyes cast downwards. When she looks back up at me, it ain't hard to see the tears in her eyes.

"This is all I've got left, Mac; all I ever started out with, and all I'm left with now. When - when I was found as a baby, she was with me, so they told me. My mother made her for me, at least that's what I've always believed, and she's been with me through everythin'..." A tear slips down her cheek and she dashes it away as her mouth purses up in a way that tells me she's holdin' back from cryin' by sheer willpower alone. "She travelled half-way across the country with me, all the way out here; she's shared all my tears and smiles too, kept me company through everythin'." She pauses for a moment, droppin' her gaze before raisin' it to mine again, revealin' a trace of guilt. "I know you were mad at me about what I did," she says, pinchin' the blanket with her free hand, continuin' before I got a chance to say anythin', "And I guess you had a right to be. Wasn't thinkin' so much what I was doin', all I knew was I had to go back and get her..." Another tear tracks its way down her cheek and sniffin', she dashes it away. "I... I couldn't have left her to be all burned up..." Her voice breaks for a moment and I close my hand round hers, just lettin' her know I'm listenin'.

After she swipes away a few more tears she looks at me almost defiantly. "Guess you think I'm foolish and sentimental."

"That _ain't_ what I think," I say firmly. "I'm never gonna think that about you. I was mad at first, but only because I'd gotten so worried..." I manage to catch another tear before it drips off her chin and continue, speakin' more softly now, "But even though I understand why you did what you did... to my way of thinkin', even somethin' as important as that doll is to you ain't ever gonna be as important as you are to me." I'm holdin' on real tight to her hand now, and she's starin' at me her eyes dazzlin' with tears in the firelight, her lips pressed tightly together. "Even if you'd lost that doll," I continue quietly, hearin' the whisperin' of the fire, "and even though she's somethin' special and unique, the fact you've still got your life counts for more than anythin' else. A doll ain't the same as a person; a person ain't able to be replaced. I know you think that doll ain't replaceable, but riskin' your life for it..." I pause and swallow, feelin' what's gotta be the remains of smoke in my throat for a moment and grippin' Stella's hand even tighter. "Stella, your life is the most important thing in my life. If I'd have lost you, _I'd_ have lost everythin'. I could _never_ have replaced you."

She ain't makin' any attempt now to wipe away the tears that are runnin' down her cheeks, so raisin' my hand, I brush a few away with the backs of my fingers. "I ain't condemin' you for what you did, Stella," I tell as gently as I can, "but you gotta know that had... had anythin' happened to you I would have lost the person who means more to me than' anythin' in the whole world."

In the silence, a sigh slips outta me; a whole lot of feelings have risen up with all I've spoken about and I gotta let them settle for a time.

Stella, still with her eyes brimmin', stares down at the doll in her hands, her fingers smoothin' its dress over and over without her bein' properly aware of what she's doin.

"I couldn't bear to lose you, I couldn't bear it..." I gotta say those last words, even though my voice falters on them; they're too important to remain unspoken.

"I'm sorry, Mac," she whispers finally, hoarse with tears. "I'm so sorry... when I saw you'd come in after me... I didn't think the fire had taken hold so much, thought I'd still have enough time, and - and I hadn't wanted you riskin' your life rushin' back in to find me..." Her hands cover her face and bowed forward a sob breaks from her that almost breaks my heart.

Next thing, she's in my arms again, her face buried into the crook of my neck.

"How could I have left you in there?" I murmur. "Even if it had been fallin' down around me, I'd have gone back in for you."

"Oh, Mac..." she half-chokes out, her shoulders heavin' with another wave of sobs. She's quick to bring them under control this time, but it's tired her out even more; though maybe that's gonna be good for her, maybe now she can get some real restful sleep.

When the last tears have been wiped away and she's joked half-heartedly about makin' my shirt all damp, the two of us just sit for a time, our arms round each other. It's soon clear she's strugglin' to keep her eyes open; they keep kinda' droppin' shut, no matter how often she forces them open again.

"Maybe you oughtta sleep?" I suggest, knowin' what she's gonna say to that, and unable to help a grin when she answers as I predicted with the protest that she ain't so tired she needs to sleep, before addin' that she ain't the only one who needs to. Strokin' the top of her arm, I smile down at her, thinkin' that sleep maybe ain't a bad idea for me and all. When I tell her that, she smiles real contentedly and strokes the back of my hand with her fingertips.

But my sympathy's with her as I guess part of her protest is to do with the fact she's scared about what she's gonna dream of. So another suggestion comes to mind. "Maybe we oughtta strike another deal, Stella," I say. "I agree to go to sleep if you do and all. I ain't gonna be far from you, and you ain't gonna be far from me if we need each other. What d'you think?"

Givin' me a frown, she looks up from where she's got her cheek pillowed against my chest. "Maybe... I guess – I guess knowin' you're here with me's gonna stop some of those dreams comin' back for me," she mumbles in between yawns.

"You're safe, ain't no need for you to fear dreams," I tell her, caressin' the back of her neck.

After there ain't no more words from her for a few minutes, I begin to think she's fallen asleep, but when I shift a little, she murmurs somethin' about what in the world she's gonna wear tomorrow.

Lookin' down curiously at her, she gazes up at me, her fingertips startin' to trace patterns on the back of my hand. "I ain't got nothin' but what I'm wearin' now. And this dress ain't really fit for wearin' anymore." She lifts a piece of the skirt and lets it fall again.

That causes me to frown, thinkin' about what I can do about that. Ain't really much good me offerin' her any of my clothes... However, inspiration strikes me after a moment. "Martha will no doubt have somethin' you can wear from one of her daughters," I say, hopin' that's the case. "You ain't got no need to worry, we'll get everythin' sorted out, I promise."

She looks up at me, her gaze fixed to mine, a crooked sorta' smile at the corners of her mouth. "I believe you," she says, but sighs a little sadly as she regards the doll in her lap. "Guess the resemblance between the two of us ain't never been so great; look at us – hair all messed up and tangled, dresses all scorched and spoiled..."

I tilt her chin up real gently with one finger. "You know, maybe Martha can do somethin' about that as well; reckon she'd be more than happy to make her a new little dress, fix her hair." I got no doubt that Martha will be happy to be asked; if Stella ain't looked upon as another daughter by her and her husband then I ain't the Sheriff of Hattanville.

Stiflin' another yawn, Stella looks wistful. "She's real good to me."

"She cares about you," I tell her. "It ain't a trouble for someone to do somethin' for a person they care about." I slide my arm further round her and she nestles closer into me, the smile stayin' on her face as her eyelids droop again.

Moment later, they open again and the smile's gone. "There's a whole lot I'm gonna have to do in the mornin', a whole lot..." her voice tails off as I'm guessin' she's considerin' the size of the task ahead of her.

"But you ain't gonna be doin' it alone; ain't no way you're gonna face what needs to be done alone. For a start, you got the folks in this town who ain't gonna be backwards in coming forwards, and you got me at your side to help you however you want and need."

Another sigh passes her lips and she presses my hand. "You're a good man, Mac. Real good."

The fact she thinks that gives me a strange sorta' feelin' – real pride, but maybe, maybe a kinda' fear as well, a worry that I got a whole lot to live up to and that I ain't gonna be able to be all she needs me to be... Guess all I can do though is meet each challenge as it comes and do the best I can, for her.

More time drifts by while I think all this and Stella's so still against me that she's gotta have fallen asleep. Start thinkin' about how I'm gonna try and move her to make sure she's sleepin' comfortably. May be all fine and good her sleepin' curled up like she is against me, but it ain't gonna be so good for her when she wakes up with a stiff neck in the mornin'.

As I make a move though, she stirs and mumbles real drowsily that she ain't asleep. I tell her she oughtta be and she lifts her head and blinks at me kinda' owlishly. Clearly more than half-asleep, she tells me firm as she can mange that she ain't sleepin' till she knows I'm sleepin too.

This ain't gonna get us anywhere, so pullin' the blanket closer round her, I assure her that I got myself a bed all set up by the fire and I'll be lyin' down on it soon as she's settled.

When I point it out to her, she glances at it, then turns her gaze back to me, considerin', all the while her fingers play with the doll in her lap kinda' nervously.

"I was... I was just kinda' wonderin'," she starts, droppin' her gaze then raisin' it again, "that if it ain't a problem for you, that maybe – maybe I could share some of your blankets..." she stops, lookin' shy.

I know what she's askin', and why, so I ain't gonna make her ask any further.

"It ain't a problem," I say firmly. "I'll be glad of it."

She gives me a grateful look and presses my hand again before both of us stir ourselves off the couch and make up a real comfortable place by the fire, spreadin' out the blankets and pillows we got.

By the time we're done, Stella ain't hardly able to keep her eyes open as she lies down with her back to the fire and I lie down next to her, her back against my chest, so I'm between her and the flames. Stretchin' my leg out, which feels real good, I make sure the blankets are round her and pull one over me and all.

Finally, she really is asleep and I can feel peace of mind about that; peace too from knowin' she's right here next to me, allowin' me to be there. Murmurin' a goodnight to her, I kiss the back of her head. At that, she turns round, turnin' this time towards me, so it feels only the natural thing to do to put my arm round her waist and draw her closer to me. Feels even more natural after that to whisper a final few words to her, tellin' her I love her. And though she ain't awake, I got a feelin' she might've heard me, 'cause the last thing I see before sleep drags my eyes shut is a smile on her lips and a look of peace in her face.

**Thanks for reading; reviews very welcome and replied to as usual with an extra scene :) Lily x**


	29. Sunrise in the West

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. **

**Author**** Lily Moonlight**

**Thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter :) Many thanks to _Ballettmaus_ for her help with this, to _afrozenheart412 _for her thoughts on the extra scenes, similarly to _cmaddict, LostInNewYork_ and _DNAisUnique_ and everyone who mentioned it in their reviews :) Thanks to those who have given me pokes to update - much appreciated. Special thanks to _Blue Shadowdancer_** **for the fingerless gloves that have allowed me to write this chapter despite my freezing cottage :D Also thanks to _iluvcsi4ever_ for discussion about the real Old West!  
**

Once Upon A Time in the Old West

Chapter 29: Sunrise in the West

Martha:

Goodness, it feels like I've barely been asleep before I wake to find dawn peeping in through the windows all pearly-like and shining. It almost seems as if the morning itself is giving us a fresh new start.

I must admit, I did not have the most peaceful night, which is not a matter of surprise. But at least I did manage to rest for a few hours: after all their sorrows, I do wonder if poor Miss Stella and Mr Taylor were able to find any sleep at all. I can only hope so.

After my eyes have opened, I take a moment to gather my thoughts, staying nestled against my dear husband who's still fast asleep. For sure, it won't do no harm to let him rest. The lamp we left lit last night still burns, giving me enough light to see the clock which tells me that it's only a very few minutes after seven o'clock. So it can be with a clear conscience that I allow myself to spend a little more time in bed, readying myself for the coming day.

Dear me, but yesterday was a long and difficult day for us all. As my dearest Sidney said last night, may we never have to suffer a day like that again in Hattanville.

I shan't forget how he came trailing in to the bedroom last night, barely able to lift his feet up, looking more tired than I've ever seen him. Bless him, he was surprised to see me still awake but I told him I wouldn't even have dreamed of not waiting up for him; that he was my dear, brave husband and he ought to be proud of himself as I kissed his poor wounded head. Oh, to think that he tackled one of those wicked, wicked men himself, suffering a scrape to his forehead for his pains!

Of course, he tried to play down his role in things, telling me that he was not so brave and that he only did what any man would have done, maybe even a little less. When he went on to say that I was uppermost in his mind, and that had they tried to hurt me they would have been stepping over his... Well, I cannot finish what he was about to say even now. His handkerchief is to hand on my bedside table and I give my nose a blow and scrub at my eyes with it, determined not to let myself get any more upset - there were enough tears shed in this house last night.

I've soon got them under control; anger wins out again. Those heartless men, causing so much suffering and hurt to innocent people! It still gives me a hot sort of anger inside at the thought of everything they've done. Why, had I only been given the chance I'd have happily laid _my_ fists on that Billy Baines...

But the memory of Sidney taking hold of my hand, smoothing it out and smiling gently at me brings me calm again. Though I'm still upset and angry at everything that's happened, most of all I'm thankful that we're all safe and alive, and I'm especially thankful our daughters are safely out of town.

Terrible it was imagining them in the danger that we faced today. Both Sidney and I can well take care of ourselves; we're old and wise enough for that, but had our girls been in the saloon...

I have to reach for the handkerchief again, overcome for a moment until I tell myself firmly that they are safe and happy, far from harm. There's no need for them to be told of all this until they're home, we shan't go worrying them by telling them what happened when we next write. Both of us agreed that last night.

It was shortly after that, that he decided he needed to have one last check round the house, which I did _not_ agree with, telling him, with maybe just a touch of severity in my voice, that all he needed to be doing was getting into bed beside me instantly. There was no need for him to go wandering off and leaving me. I'd checked myself before I came upstairs and I knew Mr Taylor wouldn't be allowing any more trouble to happen; especially considering that he was guarding Miss Stella even more carefully last night than he usually does.

I'm glad to say Sidney didn't hesitate a moment, knowing well that when I use a certain tone of voice to him, I mean to be obeyed. It's all well and good taking marriage vows as a wife and promising to obey a husband, but it has to work both ways. Husbands have to do their share of obeying their wives as well.

I'm gazing at his sleeping form now, watching him twitch his nose as is his way in his sleep. My Sidney, my _dear_ Sidney... oh but there are times when he makes me despair, when he just doesn't take care enough of himself. Too many thoughts filling his head, that's the trouble. All those books he reads, they clutter up his mind with all sorts of wild fancies and ideas, pushing things like taking care of himself clean out of his head. So I need to remind him now and again, and I take that part of my duties as his wife most seriously. But we both look after each other and though we have our occasional disagreements, more often than not we are in accord.

The light on the bedside table catches my eye again as I think that. In my mind's eye, I can still the most anxious look Sidney had in his eyes, when he asked if we might leave the lamp lit, just for tonight, in case we had a need for it.

I was glad, I must confess, that he suggested that, and I felt a good deal more peaceful with it burning. For any of the other dear souls that Sidney and I were looking after under our roof last night, it will have provided a light to take a comfort in should they have needed it.

It was after that request that he kissed me on the cheek, snuggled down under the blankets and was asleep almost immediately. It's not hard to tell when he's fallen asleep as his snoring is enough to shake the rafters sometimes. But I was not going to complain; nor did I even utter a word of rebuke about the way he did his usual trick of pressing his cold feet onto me. No, he could have been as cold-footed and as noisy in his snores as he liked; he was beside me and that was all I cared about...

And his cold feet are pressed against me now, though they have warmed up a little. I clean forgot to make up our hot water bottle with all the to-do we had last night. Dear me, but my husband does have cold feet and hands! It is a warm heart to go with them he has though, so I must not make too much fuss. Perhaps it's to do with how skinny he is; he never seems to be warm enough or have enough meat on his bones. No matter how much I feed him, he doesn't seem to put an ounce of weight on - same as Mr Flack, who eats enough for a bear, but stays as thin as a rake. It does not seem quite fair. I eat barely any more than Sidney - well, perhaps just a _few_ more cakes and cookies - and yet my clothes always feel a little too tight. No matter how much I try and lace my corset up, my waist refuses to shrink.

That, however, is a reminder for me that there are going to be hungry people waking up soon and lounging in bed isn't going to get any breakfast cooked. Dear me no! Time for me to be up and about I think.

After blowing out the lamp, I clamber out of bed as carefully as I can so as not to wake Sidney, even though he stirs and mumbles something which sounds very much like a line from one of Mr Shakespeare's plays. Now if that doesn't prove my point about his head being all tangled up with things he reads I don't know what does. Real outlandish things they are too and what his dreams are filled with, I don't want to imagine. Why he can't dream about sensible things like baking I do not know...

Shaking my head, I lay out my clothes, before dressing as fast as I can, shivering a little in the cold. Though no more snow has fallen over night, no more has melted either and the air is bitter. I cast a quick look at Sidney as I leave the room, but he's snoring again so I leave him to his dreams.

All seems peaceful in the house as I emerge onto the landing. Though I listen out carefully, there's not a sound. A great difference from yesterday morning. The memory makes me pause for a moment and gather my composure. May we never be woken by gunshots again! With that in mind I know I will not be satisfied until I have checked on everyone before starting breakfast preparations.

Taking a quick look into Miss Higgins' room, I find her still sleeping, her pistol on the stool beside the bed and her hat resting on her stomach. It's a sight that fair makes me smile; she may have been in the town only a few days but she has soon settled in, and she seems to have captured the heart of our Dr Hawkes. It didn't escape my attention how he looked out for her in the saloon. Maybe, in the fullness of time, there will be one more wedding in town and one less bachelor...

And if I'm not very much mistaken, Mr Taylor himself will not be a bachelor man much longer, judging by the sight that meets my eyes as I turn the corner of the stairs and come into view of the living room. Well now, that is something to lift your heart - the dear Sheriff and his beloved lady lying in front of the fire, his arm round her and her head tucked below his chin, both of them fast asleep.

It's not something to be wondered at, not in these circumstances. Indeed, it seems only what was to be expected after last night. The memory is fresh in my mind even now as I stand on the stairs gazing half-unseeingly at Mr Taylor and Miss Stella... I must have been more tired than I'd allowed, as I'd had some thought of staying up for as long as possible keeping an ear open to listen out for anyone needing me. As it was though, I must have fallen asleep not so very long after Sidney did; only to jerk awake a short time afterwards, seized with a feeling of uneasiness. I got out of bed and halfway down the stairs, drawn by the sound of broken-hearted crying, but got no further. The voice of the Sheriff, murmuring comfort ever so gently, stopped me. An intruder on people's moments together I am not. Miss Stella was being offered the love she needed from her Mr Taylor so I was able to take myself back upstairs without a prick to my conscience.

Ah, they're two dear people who need each other maybe more than they realise. But call it a wise woman's intuition, I do have a feeling that realisation might have struck them. If any good is to come from the sorrow of yesterday, I'd wish it to be that it's brought the two of them closer together. Maybe now they can allow themselves to need each other a little more.

For a few more moments, I stand and watch them, allowing myself a little smile. I'm just happy to see the two of them holding each other and so at peace. Maybe there'd be some disapproving about the properness of a gentleman and a lady who aren't quite married yet sleeping in such close proximity; and yes, maybe it is not quite fitting with the rules our society. But rules, and boundaries, have to be pushed a little at times. And the respectability and honest intent of both Mr Taylor and Miss Stella is unquestionable.

After saying all that though, there's really no need for anyone else to even know. I certainly won't be saying anything. Least said, soonest mended to my way of thinking. They're two grown adults with a whole lot of sense, despite some of the dangers they've got themselves into over the years, and I'm not going to condemn them.

In truth, I'm pleased as Punch to see dear Miss Stella not refusing comfort from her Mr Taylor, unlike last night. My, but that did hurt him. I could see it clear as anything in his face, though he tried his best not to let it show. Can't say that I've ever met a man as good as keeping his feelings to himself as Mr Taylor is, but where Miss Stella is concerned, they're clear to see.

Well, the sight of the two of them is a bright start to a new day. And the start of a new day means morning, and morning means breakfast. Standing here contemplating isn't going to get the breakfast cooked!

Not wanting to wake Mr Taylor and Miss Stella, knowing they both need as much sleep as they can get, I tiptoe to the kitchen quieter than even a mouse, holding my skirts round me. Without making too much of a clattering and a banging, I get the stove lit and start preparing breakfast and it's soon warm as toast in the kitchen.

The bacon and eggs are frying nicely when I hear a sound in the doorway and turn to see Mr Taylor standing there looking just a bit sleep-rumpled. Certainly his hair isn't usually standing on end as it is now, nor is his shirt ever so creased. Indeed, he seems very conscious of his state of dress, attempting to smooth down his hair and clothes.

Despite his outward appearance there's a spark in his eye and he looks much, much better than he did last night as he wishes me a good morning.

"Thanking you, my love, and a good morning to you as well," I say, drawing out a chair from the table for him to sit down on. "You come and make yourself comfortable and I'll serve you up breakfast in no time. Did you and Miss Stella sleep well?"

Now I didn't mean to embarrass the Sheriff, but at that question he looks a mite bit uncomfortable and his forehead furrows. "I slept pretty well myself, Martha. Likely Stella did too..."

Guiding him by the arm to sit him down on the chair, as he still hasn't done that himself, I try and reassure him, telling him that I'm pleased to hear that.

However, he still looks at me with a touch of wariness, so I speak firmly, patting him on the arm, "Whatever I saw stays within these walls, my love. There won't be anyone hearing anything about sleeping arrangements from my lips."

The Sheriff is silent for a moment, considering what I've said. He's always a considering sort of man though, thinking more than he speaks.

When he does speak, thanking me for my understanding, there's a little bit of hoarseness in his voice which prompts me to pour some coffee out for him.

"I appreciate all you've said and done, Martha," he continues, clearing his throat and tapping his fingers on the table. "Especially opening your home to Stella and me and taking care of us last night."

Setting the mug of coffee down in front of him, I receive a quick smile from him.

"Now then, Mr Taylor," I begin, feeling that now's the time to be sharing a few things with him. "You've no need to thank me, though I appreciate you doing so all the same. As I hope both you and Miss Stella know, me and Sidney are glad to show you both our hospitality. We think the world of you and it's no trouble to offer you a bit of help now and again, no trouble at all."

There's a slight bit of embarrassment in his face and he mumbles something about having to offer more than enough help in the last few days, but he's soon serious again.

"Don't know for sure what Stella and I would have done otherwise last night." His gaze becomes distant for a moment. "She was in a real bad way..."

Giving his shoulder a rub, I remind him gently that she wasn't the only one. Though I don't want to upset his pride, he needs to remember sometimes, like my Sidney does, that he needs to be more careful about looking after himself. But, as I tell him, he's looking a good deal brighter this morning.

Half a smile appears on his lips. "I'll admit to you, Martha, that a few hours sleep really does do a man good. Though I ain't gonna tell Don that." The smile on his face turns wry for a moment, which I wonder at, but letting it pass, I nod in approval at him, replying that indeed it does and I know it'll be doing Miss Stella the power of good too.

"You left her comfortably I take it?" I ask him.

He glances at me quickly, a trace of colour in his cheeks before he recovers himself and nods, telling me he lifted her back onto the couch without disturbing her, so she didn't wake up facing the fire and maybe being afraid.

That's all good and considerate of him, as I tell him, but as I also tell him, maybe not the best thing for his ribs which won't have had time to heal fully after his injuries in the gunpowder works.

He simply responds that Miss Stella isn't heavy and his ribs are much recovered. Well, there's not a lot I can say to that, so instead I place a plate of bacon and eggs and toast in front of him and watch him sniff appreciatively. It's a pleasure to see that; I don't have no time for anyone who doesn't appreciate a good breakfast.

"You tuck into that, Mr Taylor and it'll build your strength up even more," I say. "A good hearty breakfast is the best thing for a man, especially on a cold morning after events such as we faced yesterday. There's plenty more where that came from."

Mr Taylor nods in thanks and continues eating. That's what I like to see; a man enjoying his food. Though he'll eat when I put a plate down in front of him, my Sidney can be relied upon to forget about eating unless he's reminded. Unlike Mr Flack of course. My, if there's a man who enjoys his food it's him. Turns up regular as you like for breakfast at the back door. But I do wonder if today might be an exception. It may even be that he's decided to call on the Angells for breakfast. I do hope his appetite hasn't been upset though. He's such a skinny young man, I'd hate for him to go hungry...

Thinking of people going hungry prompts me to go into the pantry to fetch another loaf of bread and some more bacon and eggs. With three extra people in the house, I'll need to make sure the stove stays hot and the food is plentiful. After the hardships of last winter, Sidney and I made sure we had plenty stored, so we've no need to fear going short of any provisions.

While Mr Taylor's eating, I put on some water to heat, as it's very likely Miss Stella will enjoy a bath after she's woken up and eaten. No doubt she'll feel better after washing all that smoke off her skin and out of her hair. And once she's bathed, the poor girl's going to need some fresh clean clothes to put on too; the gown she had on yesterday is ruined and fit for nothing but rags. Luckily my Elizabeth is about the same size as Miss Stella, although she is perhaps a mite broader round the waist and hips. I know she left a lovely green poplin gown in her wardrobe which I can easily take an inch or two in of and that will suit Miss Stella down to the ground...

Funnily enough, just as I'm thinking that, Mr Taylor asks me about the very same thing; if I could provide anything for Miss Stella to wear. I'm pleased to be able to tell him what I've planned and take some of his worries away. I also take the opportunity to suggest he'd benefit from some soap and warm water as his poor face is still looking sorely battered after that wicked Billy Baines hit him. He accepts after a little persuasion, and I fill a basin for him and fetch a towel and some soap. Certainly, he does look better once he's cleaned himself up.

Soon after that, Sidney enters the kitchen, yawning and blinking behind his spectacles but greeting me with a kiss. He offers the Sheriff, who looks a little self-conscious, a good morning before sitting down and enquiring about Miss Higgins' whereabouts.

In answer to that, Miss Higgins herself, fully dressed, enters the room offering apologies for her tardy appearance, which I dismiss quickly. Indeed, it's only a little after 8 o'clock in the morning. She looks a little startled to see the Sheriff, but greets him nonetheless. Poor Mr Taylor though does seem unsure of himself with all this company round him.

As soon as Miss Higgins has sat down, I fill up the plates again, persuading Mr Taylor to eat a little more, and sit down myself. There's a little conversation between us, though not much. Mr Taylor is quiet but Sidney and I soon draw him into our chatter and Miss Higgins contributes several remarks. Some of our talk is speculation about Mr Flack's possible appearance for breakfast, with Sidney not seeming to mind too much that he hasn't turned up yet.

Once Mr Flack has been exhausted as a topic of conversation, our discussions centre around Miss Monroe and Mr Messer; poor Miss Monroe looked terribly pale yesterday and had the Angells not offered to take her home with them, I'd have brought her here myself. But Mrs Angell and Miss Jessica will look after her, of that I'm sure and I know Mr Flack won't allow any more harm to befall Mr Messer. My, but the people in this town do look after one another - which is how it should be. We're all one town together, out in the middle of a great big landscape, so it's only right to take care of one another. I shall call on the Angells myself later, to inquire after their household and Miss Monroe. I do have a wondering about something there; just a suspicion... However, I must wait to be proved right or wrong.

A brief pause in our talk follows as for a few moments we all fall silent, reflecting somewhat soberly on yesterday's events. Sidney it is who breaks it, asking if there's any more bacon and I'm glad to be busy again serving up more food as well as snatching a mouthful or two myself.

Pushing her plate away once she's finished a second helping, Miss Higgins sighs in contentment. "Don't think even Ma herself could've produced a better breakfast than you have, Mrs Hammerback, ma'am," she says. "You're a real fine lady and a real fine cook."

Well now, if that's not a gratifying thing to hear. It's brought a blush to my face to hear such praise. Welcome indeed it is to hear my cooking praised, especially when both Sidney and Mr Taylor echo her compliments; although Sidney mumbles something about only getting to eat a proper breakfast when a certain Deputy isn't around…

Very kindly, Miss Higgins offers to wash up but I tell her there's no need. It's not that I don't appreciate the offer, but there's only one person who cleans and cooks in my kitchen and that's me. Sidney attempts to tease me about that now and again, but he soon stops when I remind him of the time he almost burned the entire house down when an experiment in cooking he undertook, using some highly explosive materials, went badly wrong.

Miss Higgins smiles at me. "Mighty kind of you to let me board with you, Mrs Hammerback; I'm much obliged."

"You're more than welcome, my love," I say and ask what she intends to be doing this morning.

She tells me she'll stroll over to call on Dr Hawkes and see if there's anything she can help him with, which sounds a fine plan to me. After bidding us all farewell, she takes her leave. Shortly afterwards, Mr Taylor coughs and clears his throat before pushing his chair back, although he does not stand up.

"Reckon I ought to go and get myself changed." He smoothes his shirt and hair down again with another self-conscious look. "I ain't gonna be long as I expect Stella will be awake soon."

Guessing he's anxious about leaving Miss Stella, I reassure him that I'll be on hand when she wakes up and can offer a lady's touch when it comes to all that sort of thing like finding her clean clothes. That seems to reduce some of his anxiety but he's still in no rush to take his leave. There's something of a moment of silence when I smile encouragingly at him. Looking between both Sidney and myself, he finally stands without haste, clears his throat again and asks Sidney, with an apology to me, if he could ask him about something important in private.

"By all means, Taylor," Sidney says, rising from his chair, after throwing me a curious look. My curiosity has been greatly aroused too, wondering what the Sheriff could possibly want to ask... but I expect I will hear soon enough. In the meantime, I will practice my patience.

Just as they are about to leave the room, they are stopped by Miss Stella's entrance. The poor girl looks all shadows under her eyes and her hair is wild, not to mention the state of her dress, but that's not to be wondered at. And that we can easily get sorted out. There's nothing like fresh clean clothes, a good breakfast and a wash to help a person feel better. But it saddens me to see the bruise on her cheek and the swelling of her bottom lip and know there is nothing I can do about them. Only time and care will heal those and all the other hurts she has suffered.

And she has someone who will help that healing - I don't miss the look that passes between the Sheriff and his lady as she comes hesitantly into the room, somewhat wobbly with the remains of sleep. It is a look that is both shy and expectant, laden with understanding and care. A look that makes my eyes dart across to my husband's as we share a knowing glance.

Sidney greets her warmly, as do I, both of us pleased and relieved to see the difference in her compared to last night. She smiles at both of us, but it is Mr Taylor who keeps her attention, and, as I do not fail to note, takes her hand. It seems there is much to be said between the two of them, but for the moment they seem to content to exchange a few words and glances; a few touches also as Mr Taylor moves his chair out for her before taking her arm gently as she walks over to it and sits down.

"How are you feeling this morning, my lovely?" I ask her as she rubs her eyes and tries to smother a yawn.

"Better, thank you," she says, casting another quick smile towards Mr Taylor who stands behind her chair, one hand protectively on her shoulder.

Well I won't dispute that she looks better, but there is still some way to go before her and Mr Taylor's wellbeing is fully restored.

With something of a question in his voice, Mr Taylor tells her of his intention to change his clothes. She holds his gaze and again I get an inkling of words passing between them silently as she nods and smiles, clasping his hand for a moment. Then with more than a few glances at her, Mr Taylor departs with Sidney.

At that, Miss Stella looks a little wistful. Without wanting to be insensitive, I try and shake her out of it by telling her that as it's now just the two of us, we can enjoy an unhurried and ladylike breakfast without the menfolk. It doesn't quite reach her eyes, but I win a smile from her and the comment that it's a real nice change to share breakfast with another lady. That makes me wonder if maybe the girl's lonely at times: that great big saloon – well, as it was before last night – and only her in it. I feel a little stricken, just for a second, until I remember that Miss Stella is an independent lady who enjoys her freedom. She might well enjoy though having some company for breakfast and there is also, of course, the matter of where she will be living now the saloon is gone. I do have a proposition which I will put to her later, but for now, I'm just pleased to see her eating. Not as much as I'd have liked and I don't miss how she's coughing now and again, but still, she gets some nourishment down her. And she's happy enough to accept when I suggest a bath and hair wash, telling her at the same time about the gown of Elizabeth's she can wear. That puts a real pleased smile on her face, as it does on mine.

Clearing up takes me no time at all - Miss Stella offers to help, but I refuse firmly. It's a sign of how affected she still is that she doesn't argue too much. After setting another pan of water to heat, we go through to the living room where I do allow her to help me set up the panelled screen and bath tub a little way from the fireplace. Though it's still there, I'm relieved to see her fear of the fire seems to have lessened. After draping two towels over a chair to warm in front of the hearth, I fetch some of my favourite bath salts and sprinkle a goodly amount in the tub which soon produces a wonderfully fragrant cloud of steam.

When the tub's full, however, Miss Stella looks a bit awkward and unsure of herself; twisting her fingers together as is her way when she's anxious about something.

"Now don't you worry," I encourage her, patting her arm. "You've got all the privacy you need with that screen and I'm at hand for anything else you want. Go right ahead, my lovely." After a short hesitation she gives me an uncertain smile and steps behind the screen.

A pause in our conversation follows, during which time I can hear muffled mutterings in between more coughing.

"Are you all right, my love? Can you manage all those buttons?" I ask. "No doubt you're a little stiff after..." I stop, realising that I'm in danger of embarrassing her as well. There's silence from Miss Stella, just the sound of breathing. "After not sleeping in your bed," I continue in as matter of fact a voice as I can muster. Another pause follows before she answers slowly that yes, likely her muscles are kind of stiff, but she can manage.

"Thank you," she adds hastily. "I ain't wantin' to be unappreciative."

"I'd never think you were," I reply. There's another murmured thank you, the sounds of more fumbling and material being stretched and tugged, perhaps with just a touch of impatience and her gown is tossed over the screen.

That I take and bundle up, knowing there isn't much of it can be salvaged. A real shame that is too as it's been a beautiful satin gown. I shake my head over it, but there's no use crying over spilt milk, or torn frocks. I'll give it a wash and maybe something can be made of the undamaged pieces of material.

Shortly following is an assortment of undergarments and those can be laundered and re-used. I let Miss Stella know I'm taking them to the kitchen and will be back directly.

The last pan of water is just about the right temperature so I heave that through to the living room. Sidney always murmurs a reproof when he sees me carrying heavy items but my arms are strong and I'm not a woman who can stand by and let someone do a job she's perfectly capable of doing herself. And neither, I'm certain, is Miss Stella.

Setting down the pan, I tell her to ask me for anything that she needs and she replies that she will, thanking me again. I'm about to make my way back to the kitchen to begin tidying up the breakfast things when she calls to ask if there's any soap she can use, if I don't mind.

Goodness, if I hadn't gone and clean forgotten about soap... though I intend no pun by that.

"Of course I don't mind, my lovely," I call, already on my way upstairs.

I tap on the screen before I step round it with the soap; there's not much that can embarrass me, but Miss Stella is very much used to her privacy.

Her arms are wrapped round herself and taking note of that and the blush in her cheeks, I smile reassuringly at her and tell her I'm not far before stepping quickly back round the screen.

After pushing round a large enamel jug and the pan of water so she can rinse her hair, I remember that I'd almost gone and forgotten the clothes. Dear me, these stairs seem to get steeper the more times I hurry up them!

Just as well as my arms are strong as they're soon laden with the gown and all the petticoats and whatnots Miss Stella will need - I'm mindful of the cold of the day and I don't want her catching a chill.

As I reach the bottom of the stairs, the noise of the front door opening and male voices alerts me to our men returning. They pass straight through into the kitchen, however, no doubt realising that Miss Stella has not quite finished her bathing.

I arrange the clothes over the screen and she thanks me, letting me know she's finished and will be dressed shortly.

"Take your time," I reassure her, "there's no rush necessary. Mr Taylor and Sidney are in the kitchen - there's not too much mischief they can get up to in there," I add, thinking she might take some amusement from that.

Indeed, there's a slight chuckle which I'm pleased to hear.

She soon emerges dressed and with cheeks glowing pink, one of the towels round her shoulders and her hair spread across it.

"Well now, my lovely!" I beam at her, "You do look brighter and that colour suits you marvellously."

She looks down, smoothing the gown with her fingers. "It's a real nice dress," she smiles, "And it's real kind of you to lend it."

I reassure her that it's my pleasure before noticing it does hang a bit loosely on her. Telling her to stand where she is, I fetch my pincushion, needle case and thread and while she stands patiently enough, I make a few quick adjustments that will do for the time being. It needs sewing properly, but that I can do when she takes it off tonight.

When I'm done, I usher her over to the couch and get her sitting close to the heat from the fire, but not so close as to cause her any worry. It's then I notice a smoke-stained little rag doll propped against a cushion and pick her up with a questioning look before I remember.

"Your little Emily doll," I say softly.

A startled look appears in Miss Stella's face and I tell her that I well recall the time Mr Taylor and I, along with Emily, sat with her after that wild horse of hers tossed her off his back.

Miss Stella is momentarily embarrassed as I pass Emily to her, but soon recovers her composure. "I was hopin', if it ain't too much to ask, you could do me another favour," she starts as she touches the little doll's spoiled frock. "Knowin' how good you are with a needle and thread, could you maybe fix her hair and dress?"

"By all means, my lovely." I give her knee a pat, delighted that she's asked me. "It'd be my pleasure to make her up something new to wear."

A smile brightens the girl's face as she thanks me. I start to tell her about how I used to make all sorts of little items for Elizabeth and Charlotte's dolls, realising as I'm telling her how much I miss that sort of thing, but there's no time to finish the conversation as Sidney calls through to ask if it's suitable for him and Mr Taylor to join us.

Miss Stella's more than pleased to see her Sheriff and though he refuses to take my place on the couch, he moves to stand next to her and she slips her hand into his.

I'm pleased too that he compliments her on her outfit, which brings a further smile to her lips. Both of us question our men if they have anything to tell us and an interesting look is exchanged between them before Sidney denies that there is anything to be told, that they simply went to the Sheriff's Office before returning home. I may need to do some further questioning of my husband…

Indeed, Mr Taylor and Miss Stella will no doubt be grateful for some time together, so I hustle Sidney into the kitchen and waste no time in asking him if there really is nothing to report. He tries to divert me with a kiss, which only makes me more determined to get to the bottom of the twinkle in his eyes; however, he won't budge.

It seems I must be patient even longer...

Well, I cannot be idle while I wonder, so I search through my scrap box and set Sidney to tasks under my direction. As soon as I've found a pretty piece of calico that will make the perfect dress for Emily, we venture back into the living room.

Our two guests sit together on the couch, hands held, talking quietly. Mr Taylor stands up at my entrance though and his hand moves to Miss Stella's shoulder. Addressing her more than anyone else, he tells us he'll be stepping out for a short time to check on things in town.

But Miss Stella is not satisfied to be left behind. Standing up with a look of determination in her face (similar to the one she had a few days ago when Mr Taylor decided he was riding off to the gunpowder works and she decided she was going with him) she announces that she wants to go and see what's left of the Saloon.

All three of us protest immediately with me telling her she shouldn't even think about going outside yet, that her hair isn't nearly dry for a start...

"I ain't gonna catch cold," she says stubbornly, showing some of her usual spark. "Besides," she turns to Mr Taylor, gripping his hand, "It's gotta be faced sometime and now's as good a time as any."

He frowns, asking if she's sure about that while he studies her face closely. Just for a second, her gaze drops and her reply is less certain. The two of them stand, simply looking at each other, their hands remaining clasped.

"You don't have to face it today," Mr Taylor says softly.

Miss Stella sighs, turning her head away for an instant before she meets his eyes. "I know, Mac, I just..."

I decide it's the right moment to step in and suggest she waits at least until her hair is dry and preferably until tomorrow. After a little more discussion, we are still not decided; however, a knock at the door stops us.

It heralds the appearance of Dr Hawkes who delivers a cheerful good morning, before telling us with a smile that he's here, as promised, to examine his two patients. Mr Taylor and Miss Stella look most unhappy at the prospect, but it's a relief to me and, as I tell them, it decides the question of whether Miss Stella goes to look at the saloon or not.

They look somewhat taken aback at that and are silenced, much to my satisfaction. Without waiting for anything more to be said I hurry through to the kitchen to make tea, happy to know they're staying safe indoors a little longer. Although, as I acknowledge with a sigh, how long they will stay safe is another matter...

**Thanks for reading; reviews very welcome and replied to as usual with an extra scene :) Lily x**


	30. True Grit

**Author: lily moonlight**

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: NY**

**Hello! HUGE apologies for taking so long to update. I'm so sorry. It's been a very hectic few months for various reasons. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, if I forgot to reply or send the extra scene, please let me know. Thank you also to _Marie_ for your review of my other stories, sorry I couldn't reply in person. Thank you, for help with this particular chapter to _Ballettmaus_ and also to _iluvcsi4ever_, who pointed me in the right direction over a couple of things historically :)  
**

True Grit

Jessica

"Miss Jessica!"

Don's voice, soundin' kinda' sharp, startles me. Turnin' round to face him, I'm even more startled at the exasperated look on his face and the way his arms are folded.

"I called your name twice before you answered me," he says, crookin' his eyebrows at me. "Plainly your attention's a way off from here. You realise you've been starin' outta that window for the last ten minutes near enough?" His face softens into concern as he looks at me. "Is everythin' all right? You must've been thinkin' about somethin' kinda – kinda' serious... " He breaks off to yawn, lookin' embarrassed at the size of it.

But he's right in a way, seein' as I'd been wonderin' exactly what the matter is with Miss Monroe and what I can do to help her. I'm real worried about her. Tryin' to make light of things though, seein' as he's got enough to think about at the moment, I give a little laugh and tell him I was just watchin' what was happenin' out in the street.

"Saw Doctor Hawkes and Miss Higgins, partin' just outside the Hammerbacks' place about five minutes ago." Smilin' quickly at him, I continue with a question that I know is gonna take his curiosity away from my thoughts, "Guess the doctor's gone to see Mr Taylor and Miss Stella, do you think? To check up on them?"

Don nods, lookin' grave. "Likely he has. Said he'd be doin' that this mornin', after he'd been to see Messer."

Feel kinda' thoughtless now for remindin' him of that. It's plain he's still badly shaken by yesterday's events, not least the burnin' of the saloon and the narrow escape Mr Taylor and Miss Stella had. Bein' held hostage by that Billy Baines ain't gonna have done him no good either. And though _he_ ain't said anythin', _I _sure ain't forgotten about that. Reckon if Ma and Pa hadn't had such a tight grip on me when we were all standin' listenin' to that brute talkin' on and on and on, I'd have tried to take him on myself. Guess I was that angry yesterday, I didn't even consider that kind of action would've likely gotten me killed. When someone you care for real deeply is in trouble, sensible thoughts kinda' disappear in a puff of smoke.

But Don's safe and well this mornin' and so am I.

Pushin' the memories of yesterday outta my head, I wonder out loud how Miss Stella and Mr Taylor are gonna be feelin' this mornin'.

"Wouldn't like to imagine," Don says, pickin' up his mug and swirlin' the dregs round inside it, a troubled look in his eyes as he goes on to tell me about the state both of them were in last night.

"They'll be all right, Don," I tell him, seein' him in need of some reassurance himself.

"Yeah, I know, I know... they'll be all right, long as they're together." He sighs and rubs a hand across his eyes. "Reckon the best thing for them is each other's company..."

Sittin' down next to him, I look at him keenly. "Don't reckon either Mr Taylor or Miss Stella could have a better friend than you."

He shrugs, lookin' embarrassed. "I'm only doin' what anyone would. It ain't no trouble to do things for folk you care about."

"Sure it ain't," I reply. "But that still don't mean everyone would take the trouble to do all you've done for your friends."

"They'd do the same for me," he says, meetin' my gaze.

"Yes, yes they would," I answer. "Because you're a good man and a good friend and..." For a moment I almost lose my voice and the next words I say are whispered, "And I don't reckon there are many men better than you..."

"And _I_ don't reckon there are any women better than you, Miss Jessica," he says, his voice low, a blush creepin' over his face.

Same as it's creepin' over mine. Even more so once I realise how our hands have joined. We've both become aware of where this sorta' talk could lead to, and it's kinda' scared us.

So neither of us say anythin' more and our gazes drop from each other's as our hands part slowly, self-consciously. We sit there, silent, occupied with our own thoughts; me with my hands clasped together in front of me feelin' my cheeks cool slowly, Don with his eyes fixed on his plate before he starts on the last few items of food he's got on it.

I find myself thinkin' again about poor Miss Stella in particular. I ain't able to imagine what she must feel like. To lose her home and her business, all her possessions... why, it don't even _bear_ imaginin'. What she's gonna do now, I ain't sure. Likely she ain't even sure herself. Guess she won't have had time to think about it or get over the shock of it all.

Reckon I'd like to do somethin' to help her: she's a lady I'm real admirin' of and someone who ain't ever hesitant when it comes to helpin' other folks. There's gotta be somethin' I can do. Maybe even givin' her a couple of my spare gowns 'cause I reckon we're both about the same size. Yes, that'd be somethin' real practical and useful to her. I can take them over to her later today.

After decidin' that, I look up at Don to tell him what I'm gonna do, and realise he's eyein' up the piece of toast I got left on my plate.

"You still want that?" he asks me, lookin' longingly at the toast.

Can't help but grin, even though it's mean of me to disappoint him. "Sure do," I say. "Girls have gotta' keep their strength up, too, same as the men folk."

He kinda' huffs at that and wipes the crust of his last piece of bread round his plate, makin' sure he's collected every last crumb and bit of drippin' on it.

While he's engaged in that, I eat my toast and try and think of somethin' real practical and useful to help Miss Monroe, too. She was in a real bad way first thing this mornin' when I went to see her. Found her lookin' like she'd cried herself to sleep and cried herself awake. Didn't know what to say when I went in and saw her all tear-stained and red eyed; tears ain't somethin' I know how to deal with. Ain't much for them myself, kinda' scornful of them in fact. Don't condemn other folks for sheddin' them, sure, but they ain't somethin I feel happy about dealin' with.

Still, I did what I could, gave Miss Monroe a hug, kinda' awkwardly but she appreciated the gesture. And I was pleased that she didn't shed no more tears in my presence. Told me that she'd be down and dressed as soon as she could be which was about an hour ago, just before Don arrived.

As if he's been readin' my mind, Don breaks into my thoughts to ask if Lindsay's gonna show this mornin'.

"I'm hopin' so," I tell him. "She promised she'd be down to eat."

"Was thinkin' she'd want to go see Messer soon as she could," he says thoughtfully. "Lindsay's the person he's gonna want to see first."

I nod in sympathy and decide I'll head on upstairs to check on Miss Monroe soon as I've cleared up. Ma and Pa ain't gonna be happy to see a breakfast table left as untidy as this. And I know just the man to help me do it.

Pushin' my chair back, I start collectin' up all the used crockery from the table and Don jumps up to help immediately, without me even askin'. Which is only what I expected of him, knowin' his habits from previous times I've fed him, but it's still real good of him. It sure ain't every man who'd take it upon themselves to help a woman clear a table.

Concerns me that while we're clearin' up together, Don seems to be findin' it hard to stay awake. Almost swallows me again with one of his yawns! Don't surprise me though. As he told me, he'd been awake several hours and gone on a recce round the town before he arrived here. By the time tonight arrives, I reckon he's gonna be worn out.

"Did you get _any_ sleep last night?" I ask him as even he looks somewhat surprised at the size of the yawns he's just produced.

"I didn't... didn't sleep so bad," he just about manages to say before another yawn splits his face. "Got a few hours. More than Mac anyhow, I reckon. If he'd only get a few hours' sleep, it'd do him the world of good."

"I reckon some sleep would do _you_ the world of good, too." I quirk my eyebrows at Don.

He shrugs, kinda sheepishly, but I refrain from makin' any comments. Instead, soon as we've tidied up the table, I offer him another cup of coffee which he accepts real enthusiastically. Guess it won't hurt to wait a few more minutes before I go check on Miss Monroe. Almost as fond of coffee as he is of cookies, is my Deputy. Why, I've known him drink seven or eight mugs of coffee in the space of only a couple of hours.

Don't take me long to brew him another mug and he's soon swiggin' it down with enjoyment. After settin' it on the table, half drunk, he looks at me with a twinkle in his eye. Almost miraculously revived. Amazin' what a cup of coffee can do for a man...

"Another piece of toast and a few more spoonfuls of grits wouldn't go amiss to accompany that real delicious cup of coffee, Miss Angell," he grins, near enough flutterin' his eyelashes. I know he knows that's a look I find hard to resist. And like so many times before, I ain't able to resist him.

The amount of food Don's eaten so far this mornin' for breakfast (and I got a suspicion it weren't the first breakfast he's had today...) would have fed most folk for a day. But the near bottomless pit that Don Flack calls his stomach ain't easily filled. Which is why, I guess, I don't mind tryin' to fill it for him. Maybe I even got a kind of feelin' of it bein' a challenge; to see if I'm gonna be the one that's finally, one day, able to make Don Flack declare that he ain't able to eat another crumb.

As I think this, and Don settles back in his chair with his plate in front of him and his knife and fork gripped in both hands, showin' he means business with the food that's about to be placed in front of him, Miss Monroe enters the kitchen.

Although she's fully dressed, has arranged her hair real nice and got a little bit of make up on her face, it's plain to see she ain't in the best of health. 'Cause it's obvious that it's rouge on her cheeks givin' her a blush of colour and that underneath it she's still real pale. And the powder she's dabbed on don't conceal the traces of tears she's been cryin'. But I don't say anythin' of course. Wouldn't be fair.

Don, bein' the gentleman he is, don't say nothin' either, simply stands up as soon as she walks in and pulls a chair out for her. Tells her, too, that he left her fiancé sleepin' peacefully, even offers to fetch her a plate and mug, get her some breakfast, too.

After hesitatin' a moment and glancin' at me, Miss Monroe accepts his offer and sits down. Soon as I've cut a couple of extra slices off of the loaf for her, I start toastin' them over the fire while Don busies himself takin' care of the grits on the stove top. I try startin' up a conversation, askin' Miss Monroe how it would suit her to walk on over to see Mr Messer soon as we've all finished breakfast.

"Me and Miss Jessica will accompany you over there," Don adds, "I know Danny's gonna be real pleased to see you." His voice is kindly and she gives him a tiny smile in return and murmurs that that'd be ever so nice and she's lookin' forward to seein' her fiancé.

It ain't hard to guess that worry about him was the cause of some of her tears, but there's somethin' else troubling her, makin' her pale and sickly, or I miss my guess. What that trouble is though, I really ain't sure. Maybe it's gonna take someone like Dr Hawkes to find that out.

As Don serves Miss Monroe, and himself, with toast and grits, I ask her, real gently, if maybe she'd like the Doctor to come out and see her, seein' as she was sick last night.

Soon as I've said that, a stubborn look comes over her face. "I'm fine this mornin', and I was only a little sick last night," she says. "Guess it was all the worry of everythin' yesterday..." her lip trembles for a moment but she gets control over it after a second and looks mutinously at me, darin' me, or Don, to argue with her.

"Well then," I say, determined, nonetheless, to do somethin' to help her, or see if I can find someone who can, "How about seein' Martha Hammerback? She's the next best person after Dr Hawkes for askin' about matters of health."

For a moment, Miss Monroe stares at me, and I can almost see the emotions warrin' on her face. Finally she looks down at her plate and moves a few pieces of food around with her fork before she murmurs somethin' about how she'll see, maybe later, after she's seen Danny. Then she returns her gaze to me and I know that's the end of the conversation, I'm gonna have to be satisfied with that.

Well, there ain't much more I can think to say to her, but Don steps into the breach and keeps the conversation light while they're both eatin'. There ain't much that Miss Monroe actually eats, but at least she does get some food down her. I keep a close eye on that. Although, it's gotta be said, she don't seem to take much enjoyment from it. Could swear once or twice that there's a grimace on her face as she swallows. Likely her stomach ain't as well as she claims it is.

Don't take long before she lays down her knife and fork and sits back in her chair, gives me a sorta' smile and thanks me for breakfast. I'm aware she's left a piece of toast on her plate and few pieces of potato, but I ain't the only one aware of them. Plain to see, Don's got his eye, and appetite, fixed on them.

Sure enough, he clears his throat and asks, real polite and nonchalantly, as if he's only just happened to notice, that if Miss Monroe don't want the rest of her food, he'd be more than happy to eat it for her.

Gotta suppress a chuckle at that, seein' the expression of feigned innocent helpfulness on my Deputy's face. He ain't foolin' me.

"You're welcome to it, Don," Miss Monroe answers, with just a trace of amusement in her eyes that's real good to see. Guess she knows Don's appetite, too; or else Mr Messer is of a similar way of thinkin'.

Catchin' sight of the grin on my face, Don states loftily as he helps himself to the food, "Hate to see good food goin' to waste..."

"Sure," I say, hidin' my smile behind my hand. Don's too busy demolishin' the piece of toast to notice though.

That piece of toast disappears in seconds, which is kinda' funny to see. Even Miss Monroe looks impressed.

While Don brushes the crumbs off of his shirt, I find Miss Monroe's coat for her before runnin' upstairs to fetch the gowns for Miss Stella, wrappin' them up in some brown paper and string to keep them nice.

Find out when I get downstairs that while I was doin' that, Don washed up all the breakfast dishes that we'd cleared off the table earlier. Leastways, he'd done his version of washin' up, which involves dippin' the dishes and cutlery in and out the water and hopin' for the best. No matter, I appreciate the thought.

When we're all wrapped up warm and cosy, I have a quick check round to make sure we've left everythin' clean and tidy enough for Ma and Pa before we walk out.

All of us keep up a brisk pace along Main Street, not wantin to dawdle in this kinda' cold. It's enough to freeze the blood in your veins, so we keep movin' and we're at Don's lodgings in no time at all.

He walks in first and calls to Mr Messer. It takes a moment or two but then a faint voice, soundin' sorta' hoarse answers us, sayin' we can come up.

"I'll wait for the two of you down here." I step towards the kitchen door, after I've patted Miss Monroe's arm, havin' seen the look in her eyes. "You both go on up."

She smiles, lookin' the happiest I've seen her in days, and passes in front of Don at his gesture to go ahead and the two of them head on up.

I've only just got myself settled in a chair when I hear the sound of Don's boots comin' back down the stairs.

"Everything's fine," he says, enterin' the room and anticipatin' my question before I even ask it. "Messer's happy to see his girl and it's put a smile back on his face. She's good for him and that's a fact."

It's plain that it's been good for Don, too to see his friend happy. He and Mr Messer are real good pals and I know it's taken a lot out of Don to see him so troubled.

But he ain't the kinda' man who'd ever complain about worryin' on behalf of his friends. No, he just gets on with helpin' them in whatever way he can.

Don comes further into the room. "Lindsay's gonna see to him gettin' up and gettin' some breakfast."

"So we're gonna leave them both here?" I ask. "You reckon they'll be all right?"

"Yeah, they're good," he says with a tired sorta' smile. "Guess we'd best go see how Mac and Stell are farin', huh? Now I know Messer and Lindsay are safe for the time bein'."

"Sure. I'm lookin' forward to seein' them myself," I say, standin' up and movin' towards the door. Same time as I do that, Don steps forward and the two of us end up sorta' collidin', which means Don's gotta clutch hold of me round the waist to stop me from stumblin'.

Feelin' flustered, I pick up the parcel of gowns from the floor speakin' all in a rush, tellin' Don that I'm real sorry and should watch where I step, 'cause I can be ever so clumsy at times...

But he catches hold of my arm and smiles at me, real soft. "You're anythin' but clumsy. A real graceful lady is what you are. And seein' as you are, may I have the honour of escortin' you over to the Hammerbacks', Miss Jessica?" He offers me his arm with a smile in his eye and feelin' suddenly shy, but pleased, I tell him it'd be my pleasure and with our arms linked, we leave the house.

Back out in the street, there seem to be a few more folk than there were earlier, but it's still kinda' quiet and sober in town. Understandable. Yesterday's events shocked every last one of us Hattanville folks...

It's a strange kinda' thing though, 'cause as I think that, I realise that yesterday, when we were all held in the saloon, I remember feelin' for the first time that I really was a part of this town, that we were all kinda' in the situation together. Pa's fond of sayin' pretty often that every cloud has a silver linin'; maybe this time I understand what he means. Maybe the silver linin' of yesterday was that we all stood together, that we're all stronger together and we know for sure that Hattanville ain't a town to go down so easy.

But, well, that's just a thought. There probably ain't so many folk thinkin' about things that way today. Certainly not any of the folks gathered round the remains of the saloon, just standin' and starin'. There's a real mixture of expressions on their faces: disbelief, mostly; sadness; shock; anger even in some of them.

Neither of us want to linger, Don especially don't want to. I cast a quick glance at the remains, all pitiful in the snow, and look away. Seems suddenly kinda' terrifying how fast things change; how somethin' can be there one day and gone the next. Makes you feel you gotta look around you and make sure you make the most of everythin' you got...

I glance at Don then, but he's kept his gaze fixed firmly ahead of him, and I don't know what he's thinkin'. But then he turns to me and judgin' by the look in his eyes, I get an inklin' that maybe he was havin' the same kinda' thoughts I was.

He don't say anythin' though. All he does is grip my arm a little tighter and we quicken our steps. Couple of folk call out a good mornin' to us which we answer as brief as we can without bein' rude and we're soon outside the Hammerbacks'.

It's Mr Hammerback who opens the door to us and welcomes us inside with a smile, drawin' us through to the livin' room and the fire that's blazin' real comfortingly in the hearth. Mr Taylor's sittin' on the couch, one leg raised up on a stool in front of him, and he greets us pleasantly, though there's a worried look in his face.

Few moments later Mrs Hammerback hurries through from the kitchen and beams in delight at the sight of Don.

"Oh, Mr Flack!" she exclaims, huggin' him tightly before she releases him and holds him back from her, claspin' his forearms and studyin' him intently. "I was that worried about you when you didn't show up here for your breakfast as usual, my love, worried you might have gone and lost your appetite and been pining away."

It's kinda' difficult for me to hide a smile at the idea of Don pinin' away and losin' his appetite, but for the sake of Mrs Hammerback's feelings, as she's lookin' real serious I manage it. If I ain't much mistaken though, there's a smothered sort of cough from either Mr Hammerback or Mr Taylor, I ain't able to tell for sure.

Don reassures Mrs Hammerback, however. Tellin' her that he's sorry she was worried and that he's fine and could even manage a small somethin' to eat now, but only if it ain't too much trouble...

"Of course it's no trouble, my love!" Mrs Hammerback says, lookin' delighted at the thought of bein' able to feed him. "I'll fetch you something right away to take the edge off your hunger."

Considerin' the amount Don ate for breakfast, he's gotta be askin' out of politeness rather than hunger. I'm sure of it. Guess he don't want to disappoint Mrs Hammerback who I reckon thinks of him as a son. Somethin' Don ain't got no objection to.

After embracin' me and leadin' us both to seats close to the fire, Mrs Hammerback bustles into the kitchen. So now it's me, Don, Mr Hammerback and Mr Taylor all sittin', not quite knowin' what to say to each other. Mr Taylor ain't a man for much conversation at any time and he's lookin' sorta' distracted. Which I guess is somethin' to do with Miss Stella's absence. Don asks the question and gains the answer that she's upstairs, bein' checked over by Dr Hawkes.

As he answers, Mr Taylor shifts about a bit, adjustin' his leg and Don raises an eyebrow.

"You finally takin' heed of advice and restin' properly, or has your leg been tied to the stool so you ain't able to move and get yourself into further trouble?" he asks Mr Taylor in an impertinent sorta' way.

"It's just while I'm waitin' for Stella." Mr Taylor looks dignified, refusin' to rise to his Deputy Sheriff's teasin'. "Hawkes suggested I keep it raised for a while to give it a chance to rest."

Don smirks. "I'm guessin' that your idea of 'a while' and the Doc's are two wildly different things. Same as your idea of a good night's sleep is different from most folks'..."

Mr Taylor remains straight-faced, merely shruggin' in answer and Don soon gives up teasin' him, asks instead how Miss Stella is this mornin'.

"Lookin' better," Mr Taylor answers, frownin' for a moment. "But she still ain't her usual self, not by a long way. Got the idea into her head that she wants to go and look at the saloon this mornin'."

He and Don exchange a pointed look and it ain't hard to tell that Don's as disapprovin' of that idea as Mr Taylor is. Can't say that I understand myself why Miss Stella would want to do that either, but then, well, I guess perhaps it's somethin' she needs to do. Needs to kinda' face it and get it over with maybe.

Silence falls between us, but before it's got a chance to become an awkward one, Mrs Hammerback reappears with a tray holdin' a plate of thickly sliced cake and mugs of coffee; a sight that lights up Don's face and causes Mr Hammerback to lean forward in his chair and rub his hands together eagerly.

But it's Don who's offered the plate of cake first, and I'm interested to see that Mr Hammerback don't seem too pleased about that, especially when Don helps himself to one of the largest slices. Could even say that he gives Don somethin' of a disgruntled look. Strange...

Though I ain't really wantin' cake at this time of day, seein' as it ain't even quite 11 o'clock yet, I take a small slice to please Mrs Hammerback. Mr Taylor looks like he wants to refuse, too, but takes a piece all the same. That only leaves one piece of cake on the plate, which is sorta' skinny and Mr Hammerback don't look too impressed about that. Still, he says nothin' - nothin' I can hear anyhow and takes what's offered him.

Just as we're eatin' our cake, or swallowin' it down in a matter of mouthfuls in Don's case, Miss Stella comes down the stairs followed by Dr Hawkes. She looks sorta' heavy-eyed and lackin' colour in her face, but otherwise she ain't much different from her usual self. Maybe not as smart in her appearance as we're used to, seein' as her hair's loose round her shoulders and ain't quite dry and the gown she's wearin' hangs sorta loosely on her. What does strike me though, is the similarity to Miss Monroe's appearance this mornin', which sure is unusual. But I guess both ladies have had a real rough time.

Moment he sees Miss Stella, Mr Taylor looks about ready to jump up outta his seat. A frown from the Doctor stops him and he stays in his seat, kinda' restlessly mind.

Miss Stella smiles at the Sheriff , but at the sight of Don and me, stops at the foot of the stairs, one hand grippin' the newel post, lookin' what I'd call uncertain.

"Stell..." Don starts, gettin' up with a sorta' question in his eyes. "How you doin'?"

He sets his plate down on his chair and takes a step towards her, approachin' her carefully. Knowin' the sorta' easy-goin', teasin' relationship they got usually, bein' near enough like brother and sister to each other, I can tell just how worried Don is for her.

But a smile, just a real small one, appears on Miss Stella's face and she closes the distance between them, takin' hold of his hand and givin' it a squeeze.

"I ain't so bad," she says, castin' a quick look at Doctor Hawkes who's waitin' patiently behind her on the stairs.

Don gives her a relieved smile after lookin' at her, tryin' to decide if she's speakin' the truth, before he guides her over to the couch where she sits down next to Mr Taylor. "Real glad to hear that," he says, glancin' over at Dr Hawkes. "And I guess the Doc's gonna agree with you, huh?"

The Doctor himself speaks up at that, remindin' both Miss Stella and Mr Taylor that they should keep an eye on how they're breathin', drink plenty of water and at the first sign of any problems, to call him.

Reckon there's real authority in Dr Hawkes, as though he's a mild-mannered gentleman, even the Sheriff and Miss Stella seem to take heed of what he says and don't do any arguin'. All of which is much to Don's satisfaction, though give him his due, he's got enough wisdom not to say anythin'. Gotta admit, I'm surprised to see both of them lookin' as well as they do, considerin' all they've been through.

Mrs Hammerback offers to fetch the Doctor somethin' hot to drink and a slice of cake, but he refuses politely after thankin' her. "My apologies for rushing off and leaving you all." He puts his hat on as he speaks and reaches for his coat, "But I got a few more folks to go check up on. Would have been here sooner but I couldn't leave a dying man in his last hour on earth, even..." he pauses for a moment, catchin' Don's eye and somethin' unspoken seems to pass between them, "Even such a one as Billy Baines..."

There's a moment's silence as we take in what he's said.

"He's dead?" Mr Hammerback asks finally, lookin' gravely at Dr Hawkes.

"Died shortly before 10 o'clock this morning," is the Doctor's brief reply.

"I'm glad to hear it!" Mrs Hammerback bursts out, standin' up suddenly, her face all white and red and her eyes sparklin'. "It may be a wicked thing for me to say, and the dear Lord forgive me for doing so, but..."

She stops, almost pantin' for breath, lookin' round at us all and embarrassment crosses her face as she sees everyone's eyes on her. Then, defiance appears in her eyes. "Well, maybe it's not a Christian thing to say, but it's the truth and I'm a woman for speaking the truth, uncomfortable though it may be. He was a wicked, wicked man and if he's dead now, well, I for one am not sorry."

Then she gives a sob, covers her face with her apron and hurries out of the room.

Mr Hammerback is up and after her immediately, leavin' the rest of us in somethin' of a shocked silence. I ain't ever seen Mrs Hammerback so upset. Always seems the kinda' woman that nothin' would ever trouble. But I understand her way of feelin'. Though I ain't sayin' it aloud, I reckon I'm glad, too; glad that man ain't gonna trouble another soul no more...

After a moment, Dr Hawkes clears his throat, murmurs his farewells and hurries out of the door and all of us left sittin', still ain't able to think of a single word to say.

Mr Taylor and Miss Stella stare at each other, Mr Taylor's hand holdin' tight to Miss Stella's.

"I ain't sorry neither," she says in a low voice, breakin' the silence as she glances at me and Don. "I ain't glad, but I sure ain't sorry."

Don speaks next and the fierceness in his voice kinda' scares me. "Well, I ain't gonna say what I think of that... that low down _coward_," he spits, "'Cause with ladies present, it sure ain't polite, but hell's too good a place for someone like him..." He breaks off, shakin' his head and I reach across and lay my hand on his, just for a moment. Lookin' gratefully at me, he lays his hand across mine and that touch between us, even if it's only real brief, brings us comfort.

The Hammerbacks soon return from the kitchen, with Mrs Hammerback dabbin' at her eyes with her apron, but lookin' brighter. After glancin' at the clock, in a voice that's tryin' too hard to sound cheerful, she says that's seein' as it ain't far from noon, we should all stay and have some lunch in a little while, addin', with a meaningful glance at Miss Stella, that there's no harm stayin' indoors a while longer.

Don and Mr Hammerback look pleased about the mention of lunch, though I gotta point out to Don, in a quiet voice so as not to offend Mrs Hammerback that it really ain't so long since he ate breakfast, and cake.

"That was nothin' but a small snack for elevenses," he hisses, just before Miss Stella speaks up.

"I ain't wantin' to be rude," she starts, glancin' between both the Hammerbacks, "but..." she stops, clutchin' Mr Taylor's hand still as he frowns slightly at her.

Mr Hammerback looks keenly at her over the top of his spectacles, a real kindly and understandin' look in his eyes. "My dear, you could never be rude to us," he says. "I know you are eager to view your saloon."

"Guess the longer I leave it, the harder it's gonna be to face it, so it's maybe gonna be best facin' it as soon as possible. Reckon now's as good a time as any..." she says, givin' him a grateful look.

Mrs Hammerback clasps her hands together. "But, Miss Stella," she begins, near enough pleadin', "Surely you aren't still thinking of going out there? Even after what Dr Hawkes said to you about taking care of your breathing and drinking plenty of water? How can you make sure of that by going outside? Stay indoors, my lovely, we'll have lunch in a couple of hours and then maybe after that you could think again about it."

Miss Stella shakes her head and a determined look appears in her face. "Martha, I gotta do this..." She clasps Mr Taylor's hand real tight as she speaks and he looks at her with a mix of emotions on his face; can see he wants to do what's best for her, but he maybe ain't sure what _is_ best for her.

Glancin' at each other, both Don and me feel like we're intrudin' on somethin' as we sit back and try and make ourselves invisible while the discussion goes back and forth between Miss Stella, Mr Taylor and the Hammerbacks.

It finally ends with Mrs Hammerback succeedin' in persuadin' Miss Stella to come back for lunch once she's viewed the Saloon, and Miss Stella agreein' to borrow a shawl and a scarf - so she don't go gettin' a chill, in Mrs Hammerback's words.

By the time Mrs Hammerback's been up and down the stairs twice ('cause she forgot the shawl the first time), it ain't difficult to see that Miss Stella's gettin' kinda' agitated. Especially when Mrs Hammerback mentions somethin' about hair pins. The hand Mr Taylor places on her back, just for a moment, seems to calm her though and she stops twistin' her fingers together quite so much as she sighs and catches his eye.

Feelin' that I want to help as well, I offer her the parcel of dresses I've brought her and I'm real pleased to see how happy she is with them when she's opened the parcel while we're waitin' for Mrs Hammerback.

"They ain't much," I say, feelin' just the smallest bit embarrassed at how grateful she is for what really ain't much more than a few worn dresses. Makes me realise again that she's lost _everythin'_ she owned.

Finally, once both of them have got coats, gloves and mufflers on and Miss Stella's complained that she can hardly breathe with all the scarves she's been made to wear, includin' a shawl round her head in place of her hair bein' pinned up, Mrs Hammerback's almost ready to let them leave.

"_You're_ staying here of course, aren't you, my loves?" she turns to me and Don, a real anxious look on her face, givin' me an insight into just how worried she is about the Sheriff and Saloon Owner.

"It'd be our pleasure," I tell her honestly and she smiles, though it's clear she's still troubled.

"Don't you worry, Martha," Don reassures her. "And," he continues, lookin' cheekily at the Sheriff and Saloon Owner, "Take care of yourselves out there. There ain't no need for you to be out for hours. If necessary, I'll send out a posse to search for you if you're gone too long."

"That ain't gonna be necessary," Mr Taylor says, givin' his Deputy a narrow-eyed look, as if to remind him that he is the Deputy, and not the Sheriff.

Don smirks. "I know what the two of you are like when it comes to findin' yourselves in danger..."

"Now then, Mr Flack," Mrs Hammerback interrupts, a glint in her eye as she attempts to offer Mr Taylor a scarf; an attempt that fails, "Don't you be cheeky. Mr Taylor's much older than you, and wiser, too no doubt."

Don attempts to disguise his snort of amusement with a cough at the expression on Mr Taylor's face at bein' called 'much older' than his Deputy, and I gotta admit, I turn away and cover my smile with my hand for a moment.

But I gotta give Don a nudge in his side when he sniggers as Mrs Hammerback warns the Sheriff to take care breathin' in case he hurts his ribs again and asks him if he wants to borrow the cane that was Mr Hammerback's Papa's for his bad leg.

As polite as he can, Mr Taylor refuses, even though Miss Stella don't hesitate to point out that he's more injured than she is and if she's gotta take the precaution of wearin' half a dozen scarves, then he oughtta at least accept the cane.

"Besides," she adds, linkin' her arm through his. "I reckon a cane's gonna suit you. You'll look real smart and distinguished."

Soon as she's said that, Mr Taylor ain't so set again the idea of a cane and it's duly fetched by Mr Hammerback.

I wonder if a cane would be somethin' to suit Don? No, I reckon I'm more than happy with him the way he is...

At last, with various instructions and warnings issued by Mrs Hammerback, who still seems real reluctant to let the two of them go, Mr Taylor and Miss Stella leave the house.

All of us stand at the front door; Don with his hand on the small of my back, Mr Hammerback with his arm round his wife, watchin' the Sheriff and his lady walk down the steps and onto the street. When he's closed the door, Mr Hammerback wanders off to his office, a little sadly, while Mrs Hammerback heads to her kitchen, shakin' her head as she goes, Don in tow after glancin' at me with a soft smile.

So there's only me left to stand at the window. Watchin' as the figures of Mr Taylor and Miss Stella, arm in arm, make their way slowly down Main Street towards the wreck of the saloon. Suddenly, I feel kinda' anxious about them both myself; out there in the snow with nothin' to welcome them except the ruins of Miss Stella's home. Kinda' catches at me; fills me with a kinda' sadness, but at the same time, a real thankfulness that when I leave here, I know my home and my Ma and Pa are gonna be waitin' safe for me.

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**Thank you for reading! As always, I'd love to know what you think :) Extra scenes as usual for reviewers! Lily x**


	31. Romance in the Afternoon

**Disclaimer: The characters are still not mine, sadly  
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**Notes: I'm terribly sorry it's been almost a year since I updated this :S I hope the chapter makes up for the wait. Many thanks to _Ballettmaus_ for help with the chapter.  
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**I'd like to dedicate this to both _cmaddict_ and _Divinia Serit_.**

**Reviews would be really welcome; I'd love to know if you're still out there!  
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Romance in the Afternoon

Stella:

Don't think I've ever realised just how cold it can get out in the snow. The moment Mac and I step outside, I feel how cold it is; a real sharp cold, knifin' through all the layers I'm wearin', almost to my bones. Though I ain't prepared to say it out loud, I'm grateful to Martha for insistin' on me wearin' all these scarves. Mac seems to realise how cold I am though and wraps his arm tighter round me, givin' me a smile as he does. That warms me up in no time, from the inside out and soon stops my shivers better than any number of scarves could.

As we're walking down Main Street, neither of us feel the need to say anythin'. It's enough just to be with each other for now. There ain't no rush, neither. I know I was real keen to be out seein' the saloon, but now it comes to it, well, maybe I ain't in such a hurry. I take a look back at the Hammerbacks' house just before we pass out of sight of it and see Miss Jessica watchin' us through the window, then she turns and disappears and we keep on walkin'.

The street sure ain't busy, and I'm grateful for that. Last thing I want right now is to answer questions. There ain't no folks like the folk of Hattanville for askin' questions. The few folks there are out don't say anythin' to me and Mac, just sort of glance at us mostly, raise their hats or nod and then hurry past. Likely they ain't sure what to say to us. However, what they don't say says plenty. And it's what I sure ain't wantin' to hear.

In all those voices that ain't speakin' and all those looks they're castin' at me as I'm walkin' along at Mac's side, keepin' my head held as high as possible, there's pity. _Pity_.

Damn, if there's one thing I hate, it's folk givin' me pity. 'Cause I don't need it. I don't need it and I don't want it, 'cause if they're givin' me pity, it's 'cause they're sorry for me...

"Stella, it's goin' to be all right, you remember me tellin' you that?" Mac's voice, real soft and gentle, only loud enough for me to hear stops my thoughts in their tracks. Meetin' his gaze, I manage a wry kinda' smile; seems even Mac is of the same way of thinkin'. So I tell him I remember him sayin' that. It's one of the few things I do remember about last night after watchin' the roof of the saloon fall in.

"I don't reckon it could be any worse than I've imagined it to be," I add and he nods, though his lips are pressed kinda' tightly together and he stops walkin', turnin' so he's starin' right at me.

"Your leg holdin' up all right?" I ask him, realisin' I was in danger of some self-pityin' there, which is somethin' I hate even worse than other folk's pity. Then feelin' sorta' light and silly for a moment, maybe 'cause I'm needin' to shake off some of this gloominess, I add, "You know, that cane really does look well with you. You ought to consider keepin' it."

Mac raises his eyebrows before replyin' real dryly, "I hope this ain't gonna disappoint you, Stella, but I sure _ain't_ gonna be keepin' it after my leg's healed."

"Then that's a real shame," I say, adjustin' his collar for him, and hopin' he ain't gonna notice how my fingers are tremblin' as I do that. "Maybe you could keep it and use it just for special occasions, like when we go walkin' out together..." It's a strange sort of moment for light-hearted talk, but sometimes humour's exactly what you need in these moments.

Mac smiles, reachin' up and curlin' his fingers round mine, stoppin' them tremblin'. "I'll consider it," he says gently.

"I'm glad to hear it," I say, attemptin' to smile back at him, touched by him sayin' that.

We stand for another few moments, just takin' in each other, bein' safe and sound, and together, until I sigh and look down, before lookin' back up at Mac. "Well, I guess we ain't gonna do ourselves much good standin' out here in the cold, are we?" I say, tryin' my best to sound cheerful.

"Likely not," he replies in that real dry soundin' voice he's got at times. "I don't like to think about what Martha would have to say about that."

That makes me smile for real; though Martha's one of the kindest-hearted people I've ever known, she's also one of the fussiest. When it comes to the health of those she cares about, there ain't no one more Mother Hen like.

Mac's lookin' at me real gently. "Do you want to go on?" he asks, rubbin' my fingers between his.

"Sure I do," I say, strong as I can manage, noddin' my head once to emphasise that. Before I can change my mind about that, I turn, and lead us on towards the saloon... Or rather, where the saloon used to be.

Oh my.

Though I'd prepared myself all the way we've been walkin' along, when I actually see it, see all the wreckage of my home, it hits me like a bullet in my chest. Have to stop and sort of heave a breath of air in because for a moment it feels like I ain't able to breathe.

But Mac's right there beside me, keepin' his arm real close round me, reassurin' me in the kindest of voices that it's all right and he's there and it's gonna be fine.

Things ain't fine, not by a real big stretch of the imagination. Maybe though, maybe they'll be all right though in time. So takin' another deep breath, I get control of myself again and walk forward. My eyes are fixed ahead of me, tryin' to avoid lookin' at all the folks I'm aware of who are watchin' me, all of them fallen silent. It's just Mac and me, together. No one else matters.

Right in front of the wreckage, we stop. It ain't possible to go any further, so we stop with the toes of my boots almost touchin' the burned timbers. There's a real rank sorta' smell in the air, still smoke driftin' up from the mess and the faintest sorta' hissin' sound. Guess right in the middle of it all, it's still gonna be real hot.

For a while, I simply ain't able to say a word. There ain't nothin' to be said. I'm still tryin' to take all of it in...

"Miss-Miss Stella?" A shy sorta voice speaks up from close by, and blinkin', I turn round to see Adam Ross standin, his hat clutched in his hands, lookin' real nervous.

"How are you, Mr Ross?" I ask, gatherin' myself together and even puttin' a smile on my face.

He nods vigorously. "Real good, thank you, Miss Stella. How are you?" If he ain't careful, he's gonna squeeze the life outta that hat of his. The thought of that makes me able to smile a little more and answer him more or less truthfully.

"I'm doin' pretty well, thank you, Mr Ross. It's kind of you to come and ask."

"You're welcome," he says. "And-and how are you, Mr Taylor? It's good to see you up and about..." His voice trails off and he looks kinda anxious about askin' the Sheriff about his well-bein'. Mac sure ain't takin' offence though and answers Mr Ross quite cheerfully.

"I'm pretty well, too. Mr Ross."

The young man bobs his head up and down again before shufflin' his feet in the snow and gesturin' backwards. "That's real good to hear. I better go though, 'cause Miss Novak has invited me to lunch with her parents and I don't want to be late."

"That you don't," Mac says, a smile curlin' up the edges of his mouth. "Please give our regards to Miss Novak and her family."

With a nervous smile and wave, Mr Ross says that he will, backs away and rushes off. Brief though it was that little encounter somehow has made me feel more cheerful. Despite what I was thinkin' earlier, it makes me feel better that someone weren't afraid to come and speak to me.

Well, I ain't gonna just stand here and look at things. Feels like I need to be doin' somethin'. Maybe there's even some things I can salvage from all this mess...

Or maybe that's just wishful thinkin'. This great heap of charred wood in front of me ain't recognisable as havin' been anythin', least of all my home and business.

I guess I've let a sigh escape from me as Mac's hand wraps round mine and he leans closer and kisses my cheek.

"Oh, Mac," I murmur, turnin' to look at him, knowin' he ain't gonna say anythin' about the trickle of water that's escaped from my eye. "What am I gonna do?"

He smiles, loosin' his fingers from mine and brushin' my cheek ever so softly.

"Stella, it ain't just a case of what you're goin' to do, it's what _we're_ gonna do. This ain't somethin' you're gonna face on your own. You got me at your side, whatever happens."

Reachin' up, I place my hand over his and manage a watery sorta' smile. After lookin' down at the ground for a moment to compose myself, I meet his gaze again and give him a real determined look. Don't want to get all overcome with self-pityin' again...

"With you next to me, I don't reckon there's anythin' we can't tackle," I say and his smile gets wider.

"You got that right," he tells me. "So, where we gonna start? What do you want to do first?"

"Now there's a question," I say with a wry look at him as we start movin' round the perimeter of the site. Sorta' timidly, 'cause I ain't sure what he's gonna say, I continue, "Maybe there ain't much hope for anythin', but I'd like to take a look through round the edges, where it ain't gonna be too hot, just see if there's anythin' that survived."

Even standin' where we are it's real warm and I'm startin' to feel kinda' hot with all these scarves. And seein' as we're far enough away from the Hammerbacks' house for Martha not to see, I can risk unwindin' a few of them.

Already Mac's face has fallen into a frown, which ain't got nothin' to do with me removin' scarves. It ain't hard to guess he don't approve of my suggestion. He turns and studies me, still holdin' my hand.

"I ain't sure it's such a good idea," he says and I ain't able to stop a sharp sorta' laugh breakin' out of me.

When he frowns even more, I reassure him real quick, "Mac, I ain't teasin' you, but sometimes it's kinda' easy to predict what you're gonna say."

The frown on his face don't lessen. "Maybe so," he says. "But that aside, what you're suggestin', what good is that goin' to do? Surely it ain't gonna achieve anythin' but makin' you more upset when you don't find anythin' but embers." Wavin' his cane over the burned remains – which I'm findin' more and more difficult to look at, it's like some horrible nightmare you think is gonna disappear when you wake up, but it don't – he carries on, speakin' more gently, "Stella, you know how hot it was when we were inside there, how quick the fire took hold, what sorta damage fire's capable of..."

"Of course I know." I interrupt 'cause I'm feelin' tears wellin' up behind my eyes again and I'm determined I _ain't_ gonna cry again. "But-but there's a chance that somethin' will have survived. Even if it's just a chance, Mac, I want to look. There's... there's almost everythin' I ever owned inside that saloon... Everythin' I ever _used_ to own... " Breakin' off to dash my hand across my eyes, I clutch Mac's hand even harder as I continue speakin' quietly but real urgently, "I gotta at least _try_ and look for somethin'."

"Stella..." he starts, lookin' at me concerned now and I shake my head.

"No, Mac, listen to me. I appreciate you're tryin' to protect me and-and I love you for that, but some things I don't want to be protected from. This ain't somethin' that's gonna hurt me physically."

"Maybe not," he says, "but hurts to your heart are worse than physical hurts." He sighs and looks down at the ground, pokin' the cane into the snow in a pattern.

"I've suffered, and survived, more than a few hurts," I tell him in a quiet voice. "Seein' the saloon burnin' down last night was one of the worst, I'll admit, but if I can face that, then I reckon I can face 'most anythin'."

He gives me a look that's more serious than I've seen for a long time on his face. "Maybe you could," he says. "But I don't want you to face anythin' worse, because I don't know if _I_ could bear you havin' to suffer anythin' else."

Though he's spoken only a few words to me in that sentence, he's told me more about his feelings than he could have done in a whole speech. It leaves me without any sort of words to answer him, so I got to settle for holdin' him as close as I can when he slips his arm round my waist and hugs me, pressin' a kiss to my temple.

"I don't ever want to see you hurt either," I whisper, as memories from last night come rearin' up in my mind. "When I saw you bein' tormented by that son of a bitch, Baines, all I wanted to do was tear him to pieces for hurtin' you."

There's a dark sort of chuckle that comes rumblin' from Mac's chest when he hears me say that but it soon stops and there's a sudden darkness in his eyes. "That's _nothin' _compared to what I wanted to do to him when he hurt you and when he-when he threatened you," he tells me in a fierce whisper. My hand finds his and we stand there, holdin' each other, hearin' our hearts beat together, knowin' it's what we need to start healin' all the hurt we've suffered. The backs of Mac's fingers stroke my cheek and I let myself relax into his hold.

"I've been a coward," he murmurs and I'm that surprised to hear him say that, I pull away and look at him.

"Coward? Mac Taylor, if there's any man _less_ cowardly than you, I've yet to meet him," I tell him, feelin' real fierce at the accusation he's made against himself. A rueful sort of smile appears for a moment on his face, before he catches hold of my hand.

"There are all kinds of ways a man can be a coward," he says. "Especially when it comes to sayin' certain things; even admittin' certain things to himself."

Tiltin' my head to one side, I study him, before askin, "What exactly do you mean, Mac?"

Droppin' his gaze for a moment, he reaches for my hand, enclosin' my fingers within his. "What I mean is that there's somethin' I should have said to you a long time ago. It shouldn't have taken the two of us survivin' a fall, a blizzard and a fire for me to say it." Wrappin' his hand round mine even more tightly, he looks up and the look he gives me is so intense I ain't able to look away, even if I wanted to which I don't and his voice, low and soft, holds me captive, too as he says, "I love you, Stella. I've loved you for a long time, even though I ain't told you..."

"Oh, Mac," I breathe, leanin' forward and kissin' him. Ever so gentle, he pulls me closer, his hands caressin' the back of my neck, and not carin' if anyone's lookin' at us or thinkin' it ain't decent for the Sheriff and the Saloon Owner to be kissin' in the middle of the street, we let ourselves sink real deeply into the kiss.

Drawin' apart finally, our foreheads are touchin' and Mac cups my face in his hands. "I'm sorry it's taken such a real long time," he murmurs and I smile.

"You ain't got any need to apologise to me, Mac. There are some things a girl knows without bein' told them. Which ain't to say that she don't want to hear them sometime," I add, not wantin' to tease him too much even though I'm feelin' sort of giddy at the moment. Reckon my head's had too many emotions these last couple of days and it's startin' to spin with them. Slidin' his arm round me, Mac holds onto me and I breathe in the real comfortin' scene of him, rememberin' in that flash how he put his coat around me last night. He's shown me how much he loves me in more ways than I can count. It strikes me then, that I ain't actually told him out loud, when he's been conscious to hear it, that I love him, too. So I put that right and tell him and the glow that appears in his eyes and the way he clasps me to him is all I needed to know.

"I'd realised that, too," he murmurs in my ear.

"Reckon we're kind of even though, don't you?" I say, "I rode through a blizzard, you came walkin' through fire."

After all we've survived the last few days, we're in need of somethin' to take a little more light-heartedly. Mac though still ain't quite lost that serious look from his face, and so I'm quick to tell him that I weren't makin' light of his feelings. "Likely the rest of our days are goin' to be real dull after this," I say, restin' my palm against his cheek for a moment. It breaks a smile from him, which I'm real glad to see.

"Likely they will be," he says, coverin' my hand with his. "But that ain't somethin' I'll complain about. Guess I'd rather be dull and alive than anythin' else. And," he continues, meetin' my gaze again with an intensity that makes me feel my heart almost beatin' against my ribs. "If the rest of our days are spent together, then I'll have nothin' else to complain about at all."

We're both silent, breathin in rhythm with each other, hands held real tight. I got a feelin' like stars burstin' in my chest, guessin' that there's more he's got to say to me.

"Would you be willin... I mean to say, would you be happy spending the rest of our days together?" Mac asks me then, soundin' almost timid.

I ain't able to speak. All the breath's been taken right out of me. All I can do is nod and let him draw me even closer to him, wrap my arms round him and just stand there, holdin' him as he holds me.

His voice real soft, Mac murmurs to me, "I know ain't got a ring, yet, but will you do me the honour of becomin' my wife, Stella?"

Findin' tears in my eyes, I gaze up at him, the happiest smile I've been able to give in days breakin' through some of my grief at losin' the saloon. "Mac, there ain't nothin' in the world I'd like more."

I'm seein' now what I never expected to see; tears shinin' in Mac's eyes as he hugs me, whisperin' to me how much he loves me. With my head nestled against his chest; I know there ain't been a time I've felt safer and more loved. And I know that the rest of our days together is what we both want, and maybe what we both need, more than anythin' else in the world.

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**Thank you for reading! Reviews would be really welcome :) Lily x**


	32. A Deputy's Duty

**Disclaimer: Still not mine :(**

**Notes: It's been a long time... I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. Without further ado, here's the next chapter.**

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Chapter 32  
Don:

Sure hope Mac and Stell are all right out there. Even if it was a boiling hot summer's day, I'd still be concerned about them going to look at the state of the saloon. The fact that it's almost cold enough to freeze the blood in your veins makes what they're doing even more foolhardy. But, try telling them that you think what they're doing is foolhardy and you'll waste your breath. So, I'll be heading out after them in a little while, to make sure they don't get themselves into any more danger. Deputy's duty and all that. And I consider it a friend's duty, too. Specially as simply walking up Main Street seems to prove dangerous for them these days.

In the meantime, Miss Jessica is giving me a signal that we oughtta be offering Martha some help in the kitchen. Just the thing to pass the time; washing dishes. Geez. Oh well, guess that's sort of a Deputy's duty as well. Though it's gotta be said, I did do my duty earlier washing up for Miss Jessica.

'Don?' the lady herself asks pointedly.

'I'm comin',' I sigh. Duty calls...

'What can we help you with, Mrs Hammerback?' Miss Jessica asks Martha just as I've trailed after her into the kitchen. Martha's got her back to us and her hands plunged in a sink full of soapy water and is kinda' surprised to see us.

'Oh, no, my loves, you're _guests_. Guests aren't expected to wash up. You go and sit yourselves back down by the fire,' she orders, making shooing gestures with her hands, and flicking soap suds all over the place.

I'm all for doing as she says; after all, who am I to argue with the mistress of a kitchen, but Miss Jessica grabs my arm before I can get very far.

'Stay here,' she hisses, much to my disappointment, before continuing in a gentler voice, 'Mrs Hammerback, I reckon me and Don have been visiting you for long enough, Don especially, to be considered friends rather than guests. And besides,' she adds, giving me a sidelong glance, 'He's surely eaten enough breakfasts here to be considered almost an honorary lodger, with more than a few washing-up obligations to fulfil.'

Well, I ain't sure that's _entirely_ fair, seeing as it's Martha who always invites me to breakfast. Would be rude to turn her down...

Martha's shaking her head. 'Mr Flack, you've no such obligations to fulfil.'

I'm about to agree whole-heartedly, but Miss Jessica gives me a look so full of meaning, and a nudge to my side, also full of meaning, that I got to erase the words I was about to say.

'You know how much of a gentleman Don is, Mrs Hammerback,' Miss Jessica says, striking something of a low blow, which she knows given how she's smiling so sweetly at me.

Clearing my throat, I shoot her a look and compose a different speech. 'Maybe I ain't obliged in your eyes, Martha, but it'd sure be real un-gentlemanly of me to sit idle while you're washin' dishes.'

Martha frowns. 'Begging your pardon, my love, but a kitchen isn't the place for gentlemen. Even my dear Sidney isn't allowed in here unless it's for purposes of eating, or chores under my strict supervision.'

I'm aware of Miss Jessica coughing and clearing her throat, no doubt hiding her amusement at the image of Hammerback being supervised to do chores. I'm kinda' struggling myself to stay serious...

'But Don's real good at washin' dishes,' Miss Jessica manages to say after a moment, crushing the hope that I might have been able to escape.

'Thanks for the compliment. It weren't necessary _at all_,' I mutter, which Miss Jessica pretends not to hear as Martha tuts.

'That's as maybe, but in my kitchen, my rules apply, even if they do seem old-fashioned to you young folk.' Though there's sternness in her voice, there's still a twinkle in her eye.

'Hear that, Miss Jessica?' It ain't possible to stop the look of triumph I give her. 'Martha's kitchen, Martha's rules. And you know there ain't anyone more respectin' of rules than me... 'cept maybe Mac.'

The nudge Miss Jessica gives me almost winds me and leaves me unable to interrupt as she addresses Martha again. 'Then how about a compromise, Mrs Hammerback? I can help you with dryin' the dishes and Don can do the puttin' away, if you tell him where everythin' goes. And I promise we won't drop _anythin'_.'

Hands on her hips, Martha purses her lips and looks between the two of us. I grin, sorta' weakly at her, and she sighs.

'Well, maybe I could allow that... but just this once,' she says and Miss Jessica grins at her.

'Reckon we'll be finished in no time between the three of us. Ain't that right, Don?'

What can I do but agree? 'Right, Miss Jessica.'

Martha shakes her head, giving me a knowing sorta' look at the same time. 'You're a sweet-talker, Miss Jessica, and no mistake.' Yep, she's sure got that right. Although it's been to my disadvantage, I've gotta admire how she's been able to talk Martha round. Still, guess I ain't gonna complain too much. Least I'm spending time with Miss Jessica, even if it weren't exactly in the way I was hoping. And maybe Martha'll take things easy with us, seeing as we've volunteered...

Well, one of us volunteered; the other one of us was near-enough press-ganged into it.

It don't take long for my hopes to evaporate. There's barely time to breathe as we're kept busy washing, drying and putting away what seems like a mountain of dishes. With the two of us helping her, Martha takes the opportunity to do a grand clean up and even Miss Jessica starts looking like she regrets her offer. Though I wouldn't exactly call Martha a slave-driver, it ain't far off the mark.

By the time the last plate's been put away on the dresser, both of us are ready for a sit-down, and something to drink...

'You'll no doubt be needing a mug of coffee after all that hard work, my loves,' Martha says with another knowing smile on her face.

Miss Jessica catches my eye and smirks as I nod real enthusiastically.

'I sure won't say no to a cup of your fine coffee, Martha, then I'll head out into town to check up on Mac and Stella.'

Martha looks approving at that and escorts us through to the living room, making sure we're sitting down before she scurries back into the kitchen. Soon as she's outta sight, I flop back on the couch with a sigh and close my eyes, before I hear Miss Jessica chuckling. Cracking an eye open, I give her a jaundiced look.

'So you're findin' it funny that I've been worked to the bone for no more reward than a cup of coffee, as good as that coffee might be?' I say, faking hurt and indignance. Miss Jessica ain't taken in by it one cent though. Laughing out loud, she pats my arm.

'Oh, Don, you are comical.' She grins, which I ain't sure how to take.

'Comical? Well, guess there are worse things to be,' I mumble, putting as much dignity into my voice as I can.

'Far worse,' Miss Jessica says with such a sweet smile that there ain't no more grumbling that I can reasonably do, 'specially not when she leans closer and dabs a kiss on my cheek, giving me a shy kinda' grin when Martha comes bustling in with coffee.

'Apologies for creatin' more washin' up for you,' I say, accepting my cup.

She waves her hand dismissively. 'Never you mind about that, Mr Flack, and don't worry, I'm not going to make you dry or put away anything else,' she adds with a twinkle in her eye. Reckon I must have looked kinda' embarrassed about that as she's quick to continue. 'Now, what about lunch, my loves? Are you going to go and bring Miss Stella and Mr Taylor back here for something to eat?' She looks real anxious at the thought of Mac and Stell possibly missing a meal, so I reassure her quickly.

'That's our intention,' I say and she looks relieved. Me and Miss Jessica don't take long over our coffee and Martha's soon standing at the door with us, making sure we got enough warm clothing on before we venture back outside. Luckily, we're allowed to leave without being quite as smothered as poor Stell was.

'Make sure you bring the two of them back!' Martha calls after us, and we both promise that we will.

It ain't hard to find Mac and Stell; they're right where we expected them to be, standing at the edge of the wreckage from the saloon. Well, not exactly standing: the two of them are wandering round, hand in hand, with Mac poking his cane into the rubble at the edges, while Stella points at various things.

Miss Jessica and I exchange a glance. Surely there ain't a chance that any of Stella's possessions survived that kind of inferno? Guess she wants to be certain of that though. Just hope she ain't gone and built her hopes up of finding something and then they're dashed...

'Wait, Don,' Miss Jessica tugs me back. 'Maybe we should leave them a bit longer? Seems insensitive of us to interrupt them when they look kinda' involved with each other.'

'Involved? What d'you mean?' I ask, staring over at Mac and Stella, who don't look all that different from usual. Sure, maybe it ain't so usual to see them holding hands, but it ain't nothing to cause more than a passing glance. Guess it's just Mac's way of giving Stella some support.

Miss Jessica gives me a sort of squint. 'I just think we oughtta leave them for a little longer. They look like they still got a few things to talk about.'

Much as I respect Miss Jessica's views, I ain't convinced this time.

'They've been out here more than an hour,' I point out, 'which is plenty of time to talk about things. Besides, if we're out here much longer and don't return to the Hammerbacks' with them, then I don't rate our chances of survival too highly.'

Miss Jessica rolls her eyes and kinda' sighs resignedly. 'Whatever you think, Don.'

Maybe she's feeling bad now for making do all that washing-up. Either way, I ain't gonna hang around. Trudging forward, I call, 'You two ain't gettin' chilled out here are you?' hoping to lighten the mood a bit. Mac looks up at me, but Stell don't seem to have heard, seeing as she continues to poke the toe of her boot into the ashes.

'Everythin' all right?' Mac asks as I reach him and Stell, with Miss Jessica a little way behind.

'Yep. Nothin' that needs worryin' about. Nothin' except Martha, who's worryin' about you two missin' lunch.' I smirk, but Mac's face remains immobile. Darn it, the man would be one of the best poker players in the West if he ever took it up, but he ain't a gambling man. Not when it comes to card games anyhow.

'Lunch?' he asks, and glances at Stella, who seems to notice us for the first time. 'Hadn't realised it was that late in the day. Guess we lost track of time...' He glances again at Stella, and the two of them share one of those looks when they seem to have a whole secret conversation with their eyes only.

'Guess you did,' I say, folding my arms across my chest and narrowing my eyes at them, wondering suddenly if there ain't something in Miss Jessica's observation after all. 'What the two of you been doin'?'

There's another secretive glance between them, and this time Miss Jessica catches my eye, giving me a 'told you so' look.

Stella shrugs. 'Not so much, just lookin' through the – rubble.' Her gaze falls and Mac gives her hand a squeeze, and I feel kinda' mean for that.

'Did you find anythin'?' Miss Jessica asks gently and Stell shakes her head, managing a real small smile.

'Nothin' worth mentionin',' she says with another shrug and a sigh.

'Well, we're sorry for interruptin' you,' Miss Jessica adds, sending me a quick look as she does. 'Maybe you can search a bit more later when it's all cooled down?'

'Maybe so,' Stell says and then falls silent, her eyes downcast. Mac looks closely at her and then frowns at me.

'Don, I got a favour to ask,' he says.

'Go right ahead.'

'If you can spare me a few minutes before we go for lunch, I want to head over to the hardware store and check things out there. Make sure it's locked up and secure in case there's anyone tempted to help themselves to the goods in there, seein' as Brigham ain't here to do that himself.'

Stell's looking kinda' curiously at him as he says that, and Miss Jessica is doing the same. Women are so suspicious sometimes. So Mac wants to go take a look at the hardware store, don't see anything strange about that.

'Sure, Mac. But I gotta warn you, if we ain't back at the Hammerbacks' in half an hour or less, then I reckon Martha's gonna be sendin' out a search party consistin' of herself and haulin' us back to eat.' I congratulate myself on bringing half a smile to the Sheriff's face and even getting Stell to look up with a bit of amusement in her eyes.

'It won't take long,' Mac assures me before turning to Stell.

'Maybe you and Miss Angell might want to walk back to the Hammerbacks ahead of us',' he suggests, though kinda' tentatively, like he already knows what she's gonna say.

Sure enough, Stell shakes her head. 'I'll wait here for you,' she says, giving Mac a challenging look.

'If you like, Miss Stella, I could stay and help you take a look through things,' Miss Jessica offers and smiles kinda' shyly at Stell, who looks surprised, but pleased.

'If it ain't any trouble, that'd be real nice of you, Miss Angell.'

'No trouble at all.' Miss Jessica smiles. With Mac looking happier that Stella ain't gonna be on her own, he and I say our goodbyes to the ladies and make our way to the hardware store, leaving Miss Jessica and Stella staring after us.

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**Many thanks for reading. Please spare a moment to review and let me know if you'd like an extra scene :) Thank you to Ballettmaus for her help and also Smuffly for a read-through. Thanks also to Suallenparker for the cover art for the story! More soon! Lily x**


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